Rev.   G.    D.    Dovle 


Picturesque  Pala 

The  Story  of  the 
Mission  Chapel 

of 
San  Antonio  de  Padua 

Connected  with 

Mission  San  Luis  Rey 


By 
GEORGE  WHARTON  JAMES 

Author  of 

In  and  Out  of  the  Old  Missions  of  California;  The  Franciscan 

Missions  of  California ;  Indian  Basketry ;  Indian 

Blankets  and  Their  Makers;   The 

Indian's  Secret  of  Health; 

Etc.,   Etc. 


1916 

THE  RADIANT  LIFE  PRESS 
Pasadena,  California 


List  of  Chapters 


Page 

Foreword 5 

I.     San  Luis  Rey  Mission  and  Its  Founder  7 

II.     The  Founding  of  Pala        ....  14 

III.  Who  Were  the  Ancestors  of  the  Palas  .  18 

IV.  The  Pala  Campanile 23 

V.     The  Decline  of  San  Luis  Rey  and  Pala  31 

VI.  The  Author  of  Ramona  at  Pala  .  .  34 

VII.  Further  Desolation 37 

VIII.  The  Restoration  of  the  Pala  Chapel  .  41 

IX.  The  Palatinga  Exiles  :./:.\.'  .  .  .  44 
X.  The  Old  aji<£  Jfe^-Acqueducts  .  .55 

XI.  The  Palas *As 'Farmers  '  \ '''".' k  .  .  61 

XII.  With  the  Pala  Basket  Makers  .  .  63 

XIII.  Lace  and  Pottery  Makers.       ...  68 

XIV.  The  Religious  and  Social  Life  of 

the  Palas 72 

XV.     The  Collapse  and  Rebuilding  of 

The  Campanile ....  81 


Copyright,  1916 

by 
EDITH  E.  FARNSWORTH 


FOREWORD 

There  were  twenty-one  Missions  established  by 
the  Franciscan  Fathers  in  California,  during  the 
Spanish  rule.  In  connection  with  these  Missions, 
certain  Asistencias,  or  chapels,  were  also  founded. 

The  difference  between  a  mission  and  a  chapel 
is  oftentimes  not  understood,  even  by  writers  well 
informed  upon  *  other  subjects.  A  Mission  was 
what  might  be  termed  the  parent  church,  while 
the  Chapel  was  an  auxiliary  or  branch  establish 
ment. 

The  little  mission  chapel,  or  asistencia,  of  San 
Antonio  de  Padua  de  Pala,  has  been  an  increasing 
object  of  interest  ever  since  the  Palatingua,  or 
Warner's  Ranch,  Indians,  came  and  settled  here, 
when  they  were  removed  from  their  time-im 
memorial  home,  by  order  of  the  Supreme  Court  of 
California,  affirmed  by  the  Supreme  Court  of  the 
United  States.  A  century  ago  the  beautiful  and 
picturesque  Pala  Valley  was  inhabited  by  Indians. 
To  give  them  the  privileges  of  the  Catholic  Church 
and  of  the  arts  and  crafts  of  civilization,  the  padres 
of  San  Luis  Rey  Mission,  twenty  miles  to  the  west, 
established  this  asistencia,  and  caused  the  little 
chapel  to  be  built.  The  quaint  and  individualistic 
bell- tower  always  was  an  object  of  interest  to 
Californians  and  tourists  alike,  and  thousands 
visited  it.  But  additional  interest  was  aroused  and 
keenly  directed  towards  Pala,  when  it  was  known 
that  the  severe  storm  of  January,  1916,  which  caused 
considerable  damage  throughout  the  whole  state — 
had  undermined  the  Pala  Campanile  and  it  had 

3584*8 


tumbled  over,  breaking  into  fragments,  but,  fortu 
nately,  doing  no  injury  to  the  bells. 

With  characteristic  energy  and  determination 
Father  George  D.  Doyle,  the  pastor,  set  to  work  to 
clear  away  the  ruins,  secure  the  bells  from  possible 
injury,  and  interest  the  friends  of  the  Chapel  to 
secure  funds  enough  for  its  re-erection.  Citizens 
of  Los  Angeles,  Pasadena,  San  Diego,  etc.,  readily 
and  cheerfully  responded.  The  tower  was  rebuilt, 
in  exactly  the  same  location,  and  as  absolutely 
a  replica  of  the  original  as  was  possible,  except 
that  the  base  was  made  of  reinforced  and  solid 
concrete,  covered  with  adobe,  and  the  well-remem 
bered  cobble-stones  of  the  original  tower-base, 
with  the  original  building  materials,  bells,  timbers, 
and  rawhide,  Even  the  cactus  was  replaced. 
So  perfectly  was  this  rebuilding  done  that  I 
question  whether  Padre  Peyri,  its  original  builder, 
would  realize  that  it  was  not  his  own  tower. 

Sunday,  June  4,  1916,  was  selected  for  the  dedi 
cation  ceremony  of  the  new  Campanile,  and  to 
give  friends  of  the  mission  chapel  a  reasonably 
full  and  accurate  account  of  its  appearance  and 
history  this  brochure  has  been  prepared,  with  the 
full  approbation  and  assistance  of  Father  Doyle, 
to  whom  my  sincere  thanks  are  hereby  earnestly 
tendered  for  his  cordial  co-operation. 


Pasadena,  California, 
May,  1916. 

6 


Padre  Antonio  Peyri,  Pounder  of  San  Luis  Rey 
and   Pala 


Picturesque  Pala 


CHAPTER  I. 

San  Luis  Rey  Mission  and  its  Founder. 


What  a  wonderful  movement  was  that  wave  of 
religious  zeal,  of  proselyting  fervor,  that  accom 
panied  the  great  colonizing  efforts  of  Spain  in  the 
sixteenth,  seventeenth  and  eighteenth  centuries. 
Conquistador es  and  friars — one  as  earnest  as  the 
other — swept  over  the  New  World.  Cortes  was 
no  more  bent  upon  his  conquests  than  Ugarte,  Kino 
and  Escalante  were  upon  theirs;  Coronado  had  his 
counterpart  in  Marcos  de  Nizza,  and  Cabrillo  in 
Junipero  Serra.  The  one  class  sought  material 
conquest,  the  other  spiritual;  the  one,  to  amass 
countries  for  their  sovereign,  fame  and  power  for 
themselves,  wealth  for  their  followers;  the  other, 
to  amass  souls,  to  gain  virtue  in  the  sight  of  God, 
to  build  churches  and  crowd  them  with  aborigines 
they  had  "caught  in  the  gospel  net."  Both  were 
full  of  indomitable  energy  and  unquenchable  zeal, 
and  few  epochs  in  history  stand  out  more  wonder 
fully  than  this  for  their  great  achievements  in 
their  respective  domains. 

Mexico  and  practically  the  whole  of  North  and 
South  America  were  brought  under  Spanish  rule, 


and  the  various  Catholic  orders — Jesuits,  Do 
minicans,  :  Franciscans,  Carmelites — dotted  the 
countries  over  with  churches,  monasteries  and 
convents  that  are  today  the  marvel  and  joy  of 
the  architect,  antiquarian  and  historian. 

Alta  California  felt  the  power  of  these  move 
ments  in  three  distinct  waves.  The  two  first  were 
somewhat  feeble, — the  discovery  by  Cabrillo,  and 
rediscovery  sixty  years  later  by  Vizcaino, — the 
third  powerful  and  convincing.  During  this  epoch 
was  started  and  carried  on  the  colonization  of 
California  by  the  bringing  in  of  families  from 
Mexico,  and  its  Christianization  by  the  baptizing 
of  the  aborigines  of  the  new  land  into  the  Church, 
the  making  of  them  real  or  nominal  Christians,  and 
the  teaching  of  them  the  arts  and  crafts  of  civili 
zation. 

Twenty-one  missions  were  established,  reaching 
from  San  Diego  on  the  south,  to  Sonoma  on  the 
north,  and  great  mission  churches  and  establish 
ments  rose  up  in  the  land,  of  which  the  padres,  in 
the  main,  were  the  architects  and  the  Indians  the 
builders. 

Second  in  this  chain — the  next  mission  estab 
lishment  north  of  the  parent  mission  of  San  Diego — 
was  San  Luis  Rey,  dedicated  to  St.  Louis  IX,  the 
king  of  France,  who  reigned  from  1226  to  1270, 
renowned  for  his  piety  at  home  and  abroad,  and 
who  was  especially  active  in  the  Crusades.  He 
was  canonized  by  Pope  Boniface  VIII,  in  1297, 
in  the  reign  of  his  grandson,  Phillip  the  Fair,  and 
his  day  is  observed  on  the  25th  of  August. 

The  Mission  of  San  Luis  Rey  was  the  eighteenth 
to  be  founded  and  Junipero  Serra,  the  venerable 
leader  of  the  zealous  band  of  Franciscans,  had 


passed  to  his  reward  fourteen  years  before,  his 
mantle  descending  in  turn  to  Francisco  Palou, 
and  then  to  Fermin  Francisco  de  Lasuen,  under 
whose  regime  as  Padre  Presidents  it  was  established. 
The  friar  put  in  charge  of  the  work  was  one  of 
the  most  energetic,  capable,  competent  and  lovable 
geniuses  the  remarkable  system  of  the  Franciscan 
Order  ever  produced  in  California.  He  was 
zealous  but  practical,  dominating  but  kindly,  a 
wonderful  organizer  yet  great  in  attending  to  detail, 
gifted  with  tremendous  energy,  a  master  as  an 
architect,  and  withal  so  lovable  in  his  nature  as  to 
win  all  with  whom  he  came  in  contact,  Indians  as 
well  as  Spaniards  and  Mexicans.  The  Mission  was 
founded  on  the  13th  of  June,  1798,  and  yet  so 
willingly  did  the  Indians  work  for  him,  that  on  the 
18th  of  July  six  thousand  adobes  were  already 
made  for  the  new  church.  It  was  completed  in 
1802.  For  over  a  century  it  has  stood,  the  wonder, 
amazement  and  delight  of  all  who  have  seen  it. 

Alfred  Robinson,  the  Boston  merchant,  who 
came  to  California  in  1828  and  settled  here,  en 
gaging  in  business  for  many  years,  visited  San 
Luis  Rey  in  1829,  and  has  left  us  a  graphic  picture 
of  the  buildings  of  San  Luis  Rey  and  the  life  of  its 
Indians.  Riding  over  the  barren  and  hilly  back 
country  from  San  Diego  he  discants  upon  the 
weariness  of  the  forty-mile  journey  until  the 
Mission  is  perceived  from  the  top  of  an  eminence 
in  the  center  of  a  rich  and  cultivated  valley.  He 
continues : 

It  was  yet  early  in  the  afternoon  when  we  rode  up  to  the 
establishment,  at  the  entrance  of  which  many  Indian's  had 
congregated  to  behold  us,  and  as  we  dismounted,  some  stood 
ready  to  take  off  our  spurs,  whilst  others  unsaddled  the 


horses.  The  Reverend  Father  was  at  prayers,  and  some 
time  elapsed  ere  he  came,  giving  us  a  most  cordial  reception. 
Chocolate  and  refreshments  were  at  once  ordered  for  us, 
and  rooms  where  we  might  arrange  our  dress,  which  had 
become  somewhat  soiled  by  the  dust. 

This  Mission  was  founded  in  the  year  1798,  by  its  present 
minister,  Father  Antonio  Peyri,  who  had  been  for  many 
years  a  reformer  and  director  among  the  Indians.  At  this 
time  (1829)  its  population  was  about  three  thousand  Indians, 
who  were  all  employed  in  various  occupations.  Some  were 
engaged  in  agriculture,  while  others  attended  to  the  manage 
ment  of  over  sixty  thousand  head  of  cattle.  Many  were 
carpenters,  masons,  coopers,  saddlers,  shoemakers,  weavers, 
etc.,  while  the  females  were  employed  in  spinning  and  pre 
paring  wool  for  their  looms,  which  produced  a  sufficiency  of 
blankets  for  their  yearly  consumption.  Thus  every  one 
had  his  particular  vocation,  and  each  department  its  official 
superintendent,  or  alcalde;  these  were  subject  to  the  super 
vision  of  one  or  more  Spanish  mayordomos,  who  were  appoint 
ed  by  the  missionary  father,  and  consequently  under  his 
immediate  direction. 

The  building  occupies  a  large  square,  of  at  least  eighty  or 
ninety  yards  each  side;  forming  an  extensive  area,  in  the 
center  of  which  a  fountain  constantly  supplies  the  establish 
ment  with  pure  water. 

The  front  is  protected  by  a  long  corridor,  supported  by 
thirty-two  arches,  ornamented  with  latticed  railings,  which, 
together  with  the  fine  appearance  of  the  church  on  the  right, 
presents  an  attractive  view  to  the  traveller;  the  interior  is 
divided  into  apartments  for  the  missionary  and  mayordomos, 
store-rooms,  workshops,  hospitals,  rooms  for  unmarried 
males  and  females,  while  near  at  hand  is  a  range  of  buildings 
tenanted  by  the  families  of  the  superintendents.  There  is 
also  a  guard-house,  where  were  stationed  some  ten  or  a 
dozen  soldiers,  and  in  the  rear  spacious  granaries  stored  with 
an  abundance  of  wheat,  corn,  beans,  peas,  etc.,  also  large 
enclosures  for  wagons,  carts,  and  the  implements  of  agricul 
ture.  In  the  interior  of  the  square  might  be  seen  the  various 
trades  at  work,  presenting  a  scene  not  dissimilar  to  some  of 
the  working  departments  of  our  state  prisons.  Adjoining 
are  two  large  gardens,  which  supply  the  table  with  fruit  and 
vegetables,  and  two  or  three  large  "ranchos"  or  farms  are 

10 


The  Pala  Campanile,  Showing-  the  Cactus  Growing-  by  the 
Side   of  the   Cross. 


situated  from  five  to  eight  leagues  distant,  where  the  Indians 
are  employed  in  cultivating  and  domesticating  cattle. 

The  church  is  a  large,  stone  edifice,  whose  exterior  is  not 
without  some  considerable  ornament  and  tasteful  finish; 
but  the  interior  is  richer,  and  the  walls  are  adorned  with  a 
variety  of  pictures  of  saints  and  Scripture  subjects,  glaringly 
colored,  and  attractive  to  the  eye.  Around  the  altar  are  many 
images  of  the  saints,  and  the  tall  and  massive  candelebra, 
lighted  during  mass,  throw  an  imposing  light  upon  the  whole. 

Mass  is  offered  daily,  and  the  greater  portion  of  the  In 
dians  attend;  but  it  is  not  ususual  to  see  numbers  of  them 
driven  along  by  alcaldes,  and  under  the  whip's  lash  forced  to 
the  very  doors  of  the  sanctuary.  The  men  are  placed  generally 
upon  the  left,  and  the  females  occupy  the  right  of  the  church, 
so  that  a  passage  way  or  aisle  is  formed  between  them  from 
the  principal  entrance  to  the  altar,  where  zealous  officials 
are  stationed  to  enforce  silence  and  attention.  At  evening 
again,  "El  Rosario"  is  prayed,  and  a  second  time  all  as 
semble  to  participate  in  supplication  to  the  Virgin. 

In  this  earlier  account  he  adds  comment  upon 
the  treatment  some  of  the  Indians  received  at  the 
hands  of  their  superiors  which  would  lead  one  to 
infer  that  the  rule  of  the  padres  was  one  of  harsh 
severity  rather  than  of  affection  and  wise  discip 
line.  Later,  however,  he  writes  more  moderately, 
as  follows: 

On  the  inside  of  the  main  building  it  formed  a  large  square, 
where  he  found  at  least  one  or  two  hundred  young  Indian 
girls  busily  employed  spinning,  each  one  with  her  spinning 
wheel,  and  the  different  apartments  around  were  occupied 
with  the  different  trades,  such  as  carpenters,  blacksmiths, 
shoemakers,  tailors,  most  useful  for  the  establishment. 
There  were  also  weavers,  busily  at  work  weaving  blankets,  all 
apparently  contented  and  happy  in  their  vocation.  Passing 
out  of  the  square,  he  strolled  towards  the  garden,  where  he 
entered  and  found,  much  to  his  surprise,  a  great  variety  of 
fruit  trees — pears,  apples,  peaches,  plums,  figs,  oranges  and 
lemons,  besides  a  large  vineyard,  bearing  the  choicest  grapes. 

While  it  is  very  possible  the  Mission  of  San 
Juan  Capistrano — the  next  one  further  north — was 

11 


the  most  imposing,  architecturally,  of  all  the  Cali 
fornia  Missions  in  its  prime,  it  was  not  allowed  to 
stand  long  enough  for  us  to  know  its  glory,  the 
earthquake  of  1812  destroying  its  tower,  after 
which  time  it  remained  in  ruins.  San  Luis  Rey 
suffered  materially  from  the  hands  of  the  spoilers 
during  the  sad  epoch  of  Secularization  and  when 
I  first  saw  it,  some  thirty  years  ago,  near  y  all  its 
outbuildings  were  destroyed.  Yet  even  in  its 
ruined  condition  it  exercised  great  fascination  over 
all  who  viewed  it,  and  careful  study  revealed  that, 
architecturally,  it  was  the  most  perfect  Mission 
of  the  whole  chain.  While  not  as  solidly  built  as 
either  Santa  Barbara,  San  Carlos  at  Monterey 
or  San  Carlos  in  the  Carmelo  Valley,  it  was 
architecturally  more  perfect.  Indeed  it  was  the 
only  Mission  that  combined  within  itself  all  the 
elements  of  the  so-called  Mission  Style  of  archi 
tecture. 

To  those  unfamiliar  with  the  history  of  Cali 
fornia  and  the  Missions  the  question  naturally 
arises,  when  they  find  the  buildings  in  ruins,  the 
Indians  scattered,  and  all  traces  of  the  establish 
ments'  former  glory  gone,  "Whence  and  Why  this 
ruin?" 

To  answer  ful  y  would  require  more  space  than 
this  brochure  affords,  and  for  further  information 
those  interested  are  referred  to  my  larger  work.*  In 
brief  it  may  be  stated  that  the  decline  of  the  Mis 
sions  came  about  through  the  cupidity  of  Mexican 
politic  ans,  who  deprived  the  padres  of  their 
temporal  control,  released  the  Indians  from  their 
parental  care,  committed  the  property  of  the 

*In  and  Out  of  the  Old  Missions,  Little,  Brown  &  Co.,  Boston. 

12 


Missions  into  the  latter's  hands  and  then  deliber 
ately  and  ruthlessly  robbed  them  on  every  hand. 
The  work  of  demoralizing  the  Indians  was  fol 
lowed  by  the  Amer  cans  who  took  possession  of 
California  soon  after  the  Mexican  act  of  seculari 
zation  of  the  Missions  was  passed,  and  the  days  of 
the  gold  excitement  which  came  soon  after  pretty 
nearly  completed  the  sad  work. 

Hence  it  is  only  since  the  later  growth  of  popu 
lation  in  California  that  a  desire  to  preserve  these 
old  Missions  has  arisen.  Under  the  energetic 
direction  of  Dr.  Charles  F.  Lummis,  the  Land 
marks  Club  has  done  much  needed  work  in  pre 
serving  them  from  further  ruin,  and  at  San 
Luis  Rey  the  Franciscans  themselves  have  sys 
tematically  carried  on  the  work  of  restoration  until, 
save  that  the  Indians  are  gone  and  the  outbuild 
ings  are  less  extensive,  one  might  deem  himself 
at  the  Mission  soon  after  its  original  erection. 


is 


CHAPTER  II. 

The  Founding  of  Pala. 


Many  a  time  when  I  have  been  journeying 
between  Pala  and  San  Luis  Rey,  pictures  have 
arisen  in  my  mind  of  the  energetic  Peyri.  I 
imagined  him  at  his  multifarious  duties  as  architect, 
master  builder,  director,  priest  officiating  at  the 
mass,  preacher,  teacher  of  Indians,  settler  of 
disputes  between  them,  administrator  of  justice, 
etc.,  etc.  But  no  picture  has  been  more  persistent 
and  pleasing  than  when  I  imagined  him  reaching 
out  after  more  heathen  souls  to  be  garnered  for 
God  and  Mother  Church.  I  have  pictured  him 
inquiring  of  his  faithful  Indians  as  to  the  where 
abouts  and  number  of  other  and  heathen  Indians, 
in  outlying  districts.  He  soon  learned  of  Pala,  but 
his  great  organizing  and  building  work  at  San  Luis 
Rey  prevented  for  some  time  his  going  to  see  for 
himself.  Then  I  pictured  him  walking  down  the 
quiet  valley  of  the  San  Luis  Rey  River,  talking  to 
himself  of  his  plans,  listening  to  the  singing  of  the 
birds  which  ever  cheerily  caroled  in  that  pictur 
esque  vale,  sometimes  questioning  the  Indian 
who  accompanied  him  as  guide  and  interpreter. 

Then  I  saw  him  on  his  arrival  at  Pala.  His 
meeting  with  the  chiefs,  his  forceful,  pleasing  and 
dominating  personality  at  once  taking  hold  of  the 
aboriginal  mind.  Then  I  heard — in  imagination — 

14 


the  herald  give  notice  of  the  meeting  to  be  held 
next  day,  perhaps,  and  the  rapid  gathering  of  the 
interested  Indians.  Then  I  felt  the  urge  of  this 
devoted  man's  soul  as  he  spoke,  through  his  in 
terpreter,  to  the  dusky  crowd  of  men,  women, 
and  children  as  he  bade  them  sit  upon  the  ground, 
while  he  unfolded  his  plan  to  them.  He  had  come 
from  the  God  of  the  white  men,  the  God  who  loved 
all  men  and  wished  to  save  them  from  the  inevitable 
consequences  of  their  natural  wickedness.  With 
deep  fervor  he  expounded  the  merciless  theology 
of  his  Church  and  the  time,  tempered,  however, 
with  the  redeeming  love  of  the  Christ,  and  the 
fact  that  through  and  by  his  ministrations  they 
could  be  eternally  saved. 

Then,  possibly,  with  the  touch  of  the  practical 
politician,  he  showed  how,  under  the  hands  of  the 
Spaniards,  they  would  be  trained  in  many  ways 
and  become  superior  to  their  hereditary  enemies, 
the  Cahuillas,  and  the  Indians  of  the  desert  and 
of  the  far-away  river  that  flowed  from  the  heart 
of  the  Great  Canyon  down  to  the  wonderful  Great 
Sea  (the  Gulf  of  California).  After  this  he  ex 
pounded  his  plan  of  building  a  mission  chapel  and 
then — 

And  here  I  have  often  wondered.  Did  he  ask 
for  co-operation,  gladly,  willingly,  freely  accorded, 
or  did  he  authoritatively  announce  that,  on  such  a 
day  work  would  begin  in  which  they  were  expected, 
and  would  absolutely  be  required,  to  take  a  part? 
Diplomacy,  persuasion,  zealous  love  that  was  so 
urgent  and  insistent  as  to  be  irresistible,  or  mani 
fested  power,  command  and  rude  control? 

Testimonies  differ,  some  saying  one  thing,  some 
another.  Personally  I  believe  the  former  was  the 

15 


chief  and  prevailing  spirit.  I  hope  it  was.  I 
freely  confess  I  desire  to  believe  it  was. 

Anyhow,  whichever  way  the  influence  or  power 
was  exercised,  the  end  was  gained,  and  in  1816, 
the  Indians  were  set  to  work,  bricks  and  tiles  were 
made,  lime  burned,  cement  and  plaster  prepared, 
bands  of  stalwarts  sent  to  the  Palomar  mounta  ns 
to  cut  down  logs  for  beams,  which  patient  oxen 
slowly  dragged  down  the  mountain  sides,  through 
the  canyons  and  valleys  to  the  spot,  and  maidens 
and  women,  doubtless,  were  sent  to  pick  up 
boulders  out  of  the  rocky  stream  bed  for  the 
covering  of  the  base  of  the  Campanile.  In  the 
meantime  a  ramada  was  erected  (a  shelter  made  of 
poles  and  boughs)  in  which  morning  mass  was 
regularly  held.  Trained  Christian  Indians  came 
over  from  San  Luis  Rey  to  assist  in  the  work,  and 
also  to  guide  the  Palas  in  the  Christian  life  and  the 
ceremonies  of  the  Church. 

What  an  active  bustling  little  valley  it  suddenly 
became.  Like  magic  the  chapel  was  built,  then 
the  bell-tower  sprang  into  existence,  and  finally, 
one  bright  morning,  possibly  with  a  thousand  or 
more  gathered  from  San  Luis  Rey  to  add  to  the 
thousand  of  Palas  already  assembled,  the  dedication 
of  the  chapel  took  place,  named  after  Peyri's 
beloved  Saint,  Anthony,  the  miracle  worker  of 
Padua. 

It  was  a  populous  valley,  and  the  Indians  were 
soon  absorbed  in  the  life  taught  them  by  the  brown 
and  long-gowned  Franciscans.  Mass  every  morn 
ing.  Then,  after  breakfast,  dispersion,  each  to  his 
allotted  toil.  Year  after  year  this  continued  until 
the  Mexican  diputacion,  or  house  of  legislature, 
passed  the  infamous  decree  of  Secularization, 

16 


which   spelled   speedy   ruin  to   every   Mission  of 
California. 

Some  writers,  with  more  imagination  than  desire 
for  ascertaining  the  facts,  have  asserted  that  the 
name  Pala,  comes  from  pala,  Spanish  for  shovel, 
owing  to  the  shovel  or  spade-like  shape  of  the 
valley.  The  explanation  is  purely  fanciful.  It 
has  no  foundation  in  fact.  Pala  is  Indian  of 
this  region  for  water.  These  were  the  water 
Indians,  to  differentiate  them  from  the  Indians 
who  lived  on  the  other  side  of  the  mountains  in  the 
desert.  The  Indians  of  Warner's  Ranch,  speaking 
practically  the  same  language,  and,  therefore, 
evidently  the  same  people,  called  themselves 
Palatinguas, — the  hot-water  Indians, — from  the  fact 
that  their  home  was  closely  contiguous  to  some  of 
the  most  remarkable  hot  springs  of  Southern 
California. 


17 


CHAPTER  III. 

Who  Were  the  Ancestors  of  the  Palas  ? 


The  study  of  the  ancestors  of  our  present-day 
Amerind  has  occupied  the  time  and  attention  of 
many  scholars  with  small  results.  Only  when 
the  ethnologist  and  antiquarian  began  to  take  due 
cognizance  of  language,  tradition,  and  the  physical 
configuration  of  skull  and  body  did  he  begin  to 
make  due  progress. 

Dr.  A.  L.  Kroeber,  of  the  University  of  California, 
affirms  that  the  Palas  belong  to  what  is  now  general 
ly  called  the  Uto-Aztecan  stock.  Distant  relatives 
of  theirs  are  the  Shoshones,  of  Idaho  and  Wyoming; 
so  the  general  name  "Shoshonean"  was  long  since 
applied  to  them.  But  more  recent  investigations 
have  shown  that  the  great  group  of  Shoshonean 
tribes  are  only  a  part  of  a  still  larger  family,  all 
related  among  each  other,  as  shown  by  their  speech. 
In  this  grand  assemblage  belong  the  Utes  of  Utah, 
the  famous  snake-dancing  Hopi,  and  the  pastoral 
Pimas,  of  Arizona,  the  Yaki  of  Sonora,  and,  most 
important  of  all,  the  Aztecs  of  Mexico.  The  name 
Uto-Aztecan,  therefore,  is  rapidly  coming  into  use 
as  the  most  appropriate  for  this  family,  which  was 
and  still  is  numerically  the  largest  and  historically 
the  most  important  on  the  American  continent. 
Whether  the  Aztecs  are  an  offshoot  from  the  less 

18 


civilized  tribes  in  the  United  States,  or  the  reverse, 
is  not  yet  determined. 

The  most  conspicious  of  the  Uto-Aztecan  tribes 
in  San  Diego  County  are  the  Indians  formerly 
connected  with  the  Mission  of  San  Luis  Rey,  and 
who  are  called,  therefore  Luisenos.  They  know 
nothing  of  their  kinship  with  the  Aztecs  but  believe 
that  they  originated  in  Southern  California.  They 
tell  a  migration  legend,  however,  of  how  their 
ancestors,  led  by  the  Eagle  and  their  great  hero, 
TJuyot,  sometimes  spelled  Wiyot,  journeyed  by 
slow  stages  from  near  Mt.  San  Bernardino  to  their 
present  homes.  Uuyot  was  subsequently  poisoned 
by  the  witchcraft  of  his  enemies  and  passed  away, 
but  not  until  he  had  ordained  the  law  and  customs 
which  the  older  Indians  used  to  follow. 

Old  Pedro  Lucero,  at  Saboba,  years  before  his 
death  told  me  of  the  earlier  history  of  his  people, 
and  of  their  coming  to  this  land.  I  transcribe  it 
here  exactly  as  I  wrote  it  at  his  dictation: 

Before  my  people  came  here  they  lived  far,  far  away  in 
the  land  that  is  in  the  heart  of  the  setting  sun.  But  Siwash, 
our  great  god,  told  Uuyot,  the  warrior  captain  of  m^  people, 
that  we  must  come  away  from  this  land  and  sail  away  and 
away  in  a  direction  that  he  would  give  us.  Under  Uuyot's 
orders  my  people  built  big  boats  and  then,  with  Siwash  him 
self  leading  them,  and  with  Uuyot  as  captain,  they  launched 
them  into  the  ocean  and  rowed  away  from  the  shore.  There 
was  no  light  on  the  ocean.  Everything  was  covered  with  a 
dark  fog  and  it  was  only  by  singing,  as  they  rowed,  that  the 
boats  were  enabled  to  keep  together. 

It  was  still  dark  and  foggy  when  the  boats  landed  on  the 
shores  of  this  land,  and  my  ancestors  groped  about  in  the 
darkness,  wondering  why  they  had  been  brought  hither. 
Then,  suddenly,  the  heavens  opened,  and  lightnings  flashed 
and  thunders  roared  and  the  rains  fell,  and  a  great  earth 
quake  shook  all  the  earth.  Indeed,  all  the  elements  of  earth, 
ocean  and  heaven  seemed  to  be  mixed  up  together,  and  with 

19 


terror  in  their  hearts,  and  silence  on  their  tongues  my  people 
stood  still  awaiting  what  would  happen  further.  Though  no 
one  had  spoken  they  knew  something  was  going  to  happen,  and 
they  were  breathless  in  their  anxiety  to  know  what  it  was. 
Then  they  turned  to  Uuyot  and  asked  him  what  the  raging 
of  the  elements  meant.  Gently  he  calmed  their  fear  and 
bade  them  be  silent  and  wait.  As  they  waited,  a  terrible 
clap  of  thunder  rent  the  very  heavens  and  the  vivid  lightning 
revealed  the  frightened  people  huddling  together  as  a  pack 
of  sheep.  But  Uuyot  stood  alone,  brave  and  fearless,  and 
daring  the  anger  of  'Those  Above.'  With  a  loud  voice  he 
cried  out:  'Wit-i-a-ko!'  which  signified  'Who's  there;'  'What 
do  you  want?'  There  was  no  response.  The  heavens  were 
silent!  The  earth  was  silent!  The  ocean  was  silent!  All 
nature  was  silent!  Then  with  a  voice  full  of  tremulous 
sadness  and  loving  yearning  for  his  people  Uuyot  said:  'My 
children,  my  own  sons  and  daughters,  something  is  wanted 
of  us  by  Those  Above.  What  it  is  I  do  not  know.  Let  us 
gather  together  and  bring  pivat,  and  with  it  make  the  big 
smoke  and  then  dance  and  dance  until  we  are  told  what 
is  required  of  us." 

So  the  people  brought  pivat — a  native  tobacco  that 
grows  in  Southern  California — and  Uuyot  brought  the  big 
ceremonial  pipe  which  he  had  made  out  of  rock,  and  he  soon 
made  the  big  smoke  and  blew  the  smoke  up  into  the  heavens 
while  he  urged  the  people  to  dance.  They  danced  hour  after 
hour,  until  they  grew  tired,  and  Uuyot  smoked  all  the  time, 
but  still  he  urged  them  to  dance. 

Then  he  called  out  again  to  'Those  Above:'  'Witiako!'  but 
could  obtain  no  response.  This  made  him  sad  and  dis 
consolate,  and  when  the  people  saw  Uuyot  sad  and  discon 
solate  they  became  panic-stricken,  ceased  to  dance  and  clung 
around  him  for  comfort  and  protection.  But  poor  Uuyot 
had  none  to  give.  He  himself  was  the  saddest  and  most 
forsaken  of  all,  and  he  got  up  and  bade  the  people  leave  him 
alone,  as  he  wished  to  walk  to  and  fro  by  himself.  Then  he 
made  the  people  smoke  and  dance,  and  when  they  rested  they 
knelt  in  a  circle  and  prayed.  But  he  walked  away  by  him 
self,  feeling  keenly  the  refusal  of  'Those  Above'  to  speak  to 
him.  His  heart  was  deeply  wounded. 

But,  as  the  people  prayed  and  danced  and  sang,  a  gentle 
light  came  stealing  into  the  sky  from  the  far,  far  east.  Little 
by  little  the  darkness  was  driven  away.  First  the  light  was 

20 


grey,  then  yellow,  then  white,  and  at  last  the  glittering  bril 
liancy  of  the  sun  filled  all  the  land  and  covered  the  sky  with 
glory.  The  sun  had  arisen  for  the  first  time,  and  in  its  light 
and  warmth  my  people  knew  they  had  the  favor  of  'Those 
Above/  and  they  were  contented  and  happy. 

But  when  Siwash,  the  god  of  earth,  looked  around  and  saw 
everything  revealed  by  the  sun,  he  was  discontented,  for  the 
earth  was  bare  and  level  and  monotonous  and  there  was 
nothing  to  cheer  the  sight.  So  he  took  some  of  the  people 
and  of  them  he  made  high  mountains,  and  of  some  smaller 
mountains.  Of  some  he  made  rivers  and  creeks  and  lakes 
and  waterfalls,  and  of  others,  coyotes,  foxes,  deer,  antelope, 
bear,  squirrel,  porcupines  and  all  the  other  animals.  Then 
he  made  out  of  other  people  all  the  different  kinds  of  snakes 
and  reptiles  and  insects  and  birds  and  fishes.  Then  he  wanted 
trees  and  plants  and  flowers,  and  he  turned  some  of  the  people 
into  these  things.  Of  every  man  or  woman  that  he  seized 
he  made  something  according  to  its  value.  When  he  had 
done  he  had  used  up  so  many  people  he  was  scared.  So  he 
set  to  work  and  made  a  new  lot  of  people,  some  to  live  here 
and  some  to  live  everywhere.  And  he  gave  to  each  family  its 
own  language  and  tongue  and  its  own  place  to  live,  and  he 
told  them  where  to  live  and  the  sad  distress  that  would  come 
upon  them  if  they  mixed  up  their  tongues  by  intermarriage. 
Each  family  was  to  live  in  its  own  place  and  while  all  the  dif 
ferent  families  were  to  be  friends  and  live  as  brothers,  tied 
together  by  kinship,  amity  and  concord,  there  was  to  be  no 
mixing  of  bloods. 

Thus  were  settled  the  original  inhabitants  on  the  coast  of 
Southern  California  by  Siwash,  the  god  of  the  earth,  and  under 
the  captaincy  of  Uuyot. 

The  language  of  the  Palas  is  simple,  easy  to 
pronounce,  regular  in  its  grammar,  and  much 
richer  in  the  number  of  its  words  than  is  usually 
believed  of  Indian  idioms.  It  comprises  nearly 
5,000  different  words,  or  more  than  the  ordinary 
vocabulary  of  the  average  educated  white  man  or 
newspaper  writer.  The  gathering  of  these  words 
was  done  by  the  late  P.  S.  Spariman,  for  years 
Indian  trader  and  storekeeper,  at  Rincon,  who  was 

21 


an  indefatigable  student  of  both  words  and  gram 
mar.  His  manuscript  is  now  in  the  keeping  of 
Professor  Kroeber,  and  will  shortly  be  published 
by  the  University  of  California.  Dr.  Kroeber 
claims  that  it  is  one  of  the  most  important  records 
ever  compiled  of  the  thought  and  mental  life  of  the 
native  races  of  California. 


22 


CHAPTER  IV. 

The  Pala  Campanile 


Every  lover  of  the  artistic  and  the  picturesque 
on  first  seeing  the  bell-tower  of  Pala  stands  en 
raptured  before  its  unique  personality.  And  this 
word  "personality"  does  not  seem  at  all  mis 
applied  in  this  connection.  Just  as  in  human 
beings  we  find  a  peculiar  charm  in  certain  personal 
ities  that  it  is  impossible  to  explain,  so  is  it  with 
buildings.  They  possess  an  individuality,  quality, 
all  their  own,  which,  sometimes,  eludes  the  most 
subtle  analysis.  Pala  is  of  this  character.  One  feels 
its  charm,  longs  to  stand  or  sit  in  contemplation  of  it. 
There  is  a  joy  in  be  ng  near  to  it.  Its  very  proximity 
speaks  peace,  contentment,  repose,  while  it  breathes 
out  the  air  of  the  romance  of  the  past,  the  devoted 
love  of  its  great  founder,  Peyri,  the  pathos  of  the 
struggles  it  has  seen,  the  loss  of  its  original  Indians, 
its  long  desertion,  and  now,  its  rehabilitation  and 
reuse  in  the  service  of  Almighty  God  by  a  band  of 
Indians,  ruthlessly  driven  from  their  own  home 
by  the  stern  hand  of  a  wicked  and  cruel  law  to 
find  a  new  home  in  this  gentle  and  secluded  vale. 

As  far  as  I  know  or  can  learn,  the  Pala  Cam 
panile,  from  the  architectural  standpoint,  is 
unique.  Not  only  does  it,  in  itself,  stand  alone, 
but  in  all  architecture  it  stands  alone.  It  is  a  free 
building,  unattached  to  any  other.  The  more  one 

23 


studies  the  Missions  from  the  professional  stand 
point  of  the  architect  the  more  wonderful  they 
become.  They  were  designed  by  laymen — using 
the  word  as  a  professed  architect  would  use  it. 
For  the  padres  were  the  architects  of  the  Missions, 
and  when  and  where  and  how  could  they  have 
been  trained  technically  in  the  great  art,  and  the 
practical  craftsmanship  of  architecture?  Laymen, 
indeed,  they  were,  but  masters  all  the  same.  In 
harmonious  arrangement,  in  bold  daring,  in 
originality,  in  power,  in  pleasing  variety,  in  that 
general  gratification  of  the  senses  that  we  feel 
when  a  building  attracts  and  satifies,  the  priestly 
architects  rank  high.  And,  as  I  look  at  the  Pala 
Campanile,  my  mind  seeks  to  penetrate  the  mind 
of  its  originator.  Whence  conceived  he  the  idea 
of  this  unique  construction?  Was  it  a  deliberate 
conception,  viewed  by  a  poetic  imaginat  on, 
projected  into  mental  cognizance  before  erection, 
and  seen  in  its  distinctive  beauty  as  an  original 
and  artistic  creation  before  it  was  actually  visual 
ized?  Or  was  it  mere  accident,  mere  utilitarianism, 
without  any  thought  of  artistic  effect?  We  must 
remember  that,  to  the  missionary  padres,  a  bell- 
tower  was  not  a  luxury  of  architecture,  but  an 
essential.  The  bells  must  be  hung  up  high,  in 
order  that  their  calling  tones  could  penetrate  to  the 
farthest  recesses  of  the  valley,  the  canyons,  the 
ravines,  the  foothills,  wherever  an  Indian  ear 
could  hear,  an  Indian  soul  be  reached.  Indians 
were  their  one  thought — to  convert  them  and 
bring  them  into  the  fold  of  Mother  Church  their 
sole  occupation.  Hence  with  the  chapel  erected, 
the  bell-tower  was  a  necessary  accompaniment,  to 
warn  the  Indian  of  services,  to  attract,  allure  and 

24 


draw  the  stranger,  the  outsider,  as  well  as  to  re 
mind  those  who  had  already  entered  the  fold.  In 
addition  its  elevation  was  required  for  the  up 
lifting  of  the  cross — the  Emblem  of  Sa  vation. 

It  is  evident,  from  the  nature  of  the  case,  that 
here  was  no  great  and  studious  architectural 
planning,  as  at  San  Luis  Rey.  This  was  merely 
an  asistencia,  an  offshoot  of  the  parent  Mission,  for 
the  benefit  of  the  Indians  of  this  secuded  valley, 
hence  not  demanding  a  building  of  the  size  and 
dignity  required  at  San  Luis.  But  though  less 
important,  can  we  conceive  of  it  as  being  un- 
important  to  such  a  devoted  adherent  to  his  calling 
as  Padre  Peyri?  Is  it  not  possible  he  gave  as  much 
thought  to  the  appearance  of  this  little  chapel 
as  he  did  to  the  massive  and  kingly  structure  his 
genius  created  at  the  Mission  proper?  I  see  no 
reason  to  question  it.  Hence,  though  it  does 
sometimes  occur  to  me  that  perhaps  there  was  no 
such  planning,  no  deliberate  intent,  and,  there 
fore,  no  creative  genius  of  artistic  intuition  involved 
in  its  erection,  I  have  come  to  the  conclusion 
otherwise.  So  I  regard  Pala  and  its  free-standing 
Campanile  as  another  evidence  of  devoted  genius; 
another  revelation  of  what  the  complete  absorption 
of  a  man's  nature  to  a  lofty  ideal — such,  for  ins 
tance,  as  the  salvation  of  the  souls  of  a  race  of 
Indians — can  enable  him  to  accomplish.  One 
part  of  his  nature  uplifted  and  inspired  by  his 
passionate  longings  to  accomplish  great  things  for 
God  and  humanity,  all  parts  of  his  nature  neces 
sarily  become  uplifted.  And  I  can  imagine  that 
the  good  Peyri  awoke  one  morning,  or  during  the 
quiet  hours  of  the  night,  perhaps  after  a  wearisome 
day  with  his  somewhat  wayward  charges,  or 

25 


after  a  sleep  induced  by  the  hot  walk  from  San 
Luis  Key,  with  the  picture  of  this  completed 
chapel  and  campanile  in  his  mind.  With  joy  it 
was  committed  to  paper — perhaps — and  then, 
hastily  was  constructed,  to  give  joy  to  the  genera 
tions  of  a  later  and  alien  race  who  were  ultimately 
to  possess  the  land. 

On  the  other  hand  may  it  not  be  possible  that 
the  Pala  Campanile  was  the  result  of  no  great 
mental  effort,  merely  the  doing  of  the  most  natural 
and  simple  thing? 

Many  a  man  builds,  constructs,  better  than  he 
knows.  It  has  long  been  a  favorite  axiom  of  my 
own  life  that  the  simple  and  natural  are  more 
beautiful  than  the  complex  and  artificial.  Just 
as  a  beautiful  woman,  clothed  in  dignified  simplicity, 
in  the  plainest  and  most  unpretentious  dress, 
will  far  outshine  her  sisters  upon  whose  costumes 
hours  of  thought  in  design  and  labor,  and  vast 
sums  for  gorgeous  material  and  ornamentation 
have  been  expended,  so  will  the  simply  natural 
in  furniture,  in  pottery,  in  architecture  make  its 
appeal  to  the  keenly  critical,  the  really  discerning. 

Was  Peyri,  here,  the  inspired  genius,  fired  with 
the  sublime  audacity  that  creates  new  and  startling 
revelations  of  beauty  for  the  delight  and  elevation 
of  the  world,  or  was  he  but  the  humble,  though 
discerning,  man  of  simple  naturalness  who  did 
not  know  enough  to  realize  he  was  doing  what  had 
never  been  done  before,  and  thus,  through  his 
very  simplicity  and  naturalness,  stumbling  upon 
the  daring,  the  unique,  the  individualistic  and  at 
the  same  time,  the  beautiful,  the  artistic,  the 
competent? 

28 


The  Store  and  Ranch-House  at  Pala. 


A   Suquin,    or   Acorn   Granary,  Used   by    the   Pala    Indians. 


In  either  case  the  effect  is  the  same,  and,  whether 
built  by  accident  or  design,  the  result  of  mere 
utilitarianism  or  creative  genius,  the  world  of  the 
discerning,  the  critical,  and  the  lovers  of  the  beauti 
fully  unique,  the  daringly  original,  or  the  simply 
natural,  owe  Padre  Peyri  a  debt  of  gratitude  for 
the  Pala  Campanile. 

The  height  of  the  tower  above  the  base  was 
about  35  feet,  the  whole  height  being  50  feet. 
The  wall  of  the  tower  was  three  feet  thick. 

A  flight  of  steps  from  the  rear  built  into  the  base, 
led  up  to  the  bells.  They  swung  one  above  another, 
and  when  I  first  saw  them  were  undoubtedly  as 
their  original  hangers  had  placed  them.  Suspended 
from  worm-eaten,  roughly-hewn  beams  set  into 
the  adobe  walls,  with  thongs  of  rawhide,  one 
learned  to  have  a  keener  appreciation  of  leather 
than  ever  before.  Exposed  to  the  weather  for 
a  century  sustaining  the  heavy  weight  of  the  bells, 
these  thongs  still  do  service. 

One  side  of  the  larger  bell  bears  an  inscription  in 
Latin,  very  much  abbreviated,  as  follows: 

Stus  Ds  Stus  Ftis  Stus  Immortlis  Micerere 
Nobis.  An.  De  1816  I.  R. 

which  being  interpreted  means,  "Holy  Lord, 
Holy  Most  Mighty  One,  Holy  Immortal  One, 
Pity  us.  Year  of  1816.  Jesus  Redemptor." 

The  other  side  contains  these  names  in  Spanish : 
"Our  Seraphic  Father,  Francis  of  Asissi.  Saint 
Louis,  King.  Saint  Clare,  Saint  Eulalia.  Our 
Light.  Cervantes  fecit  nos — Cervantes  mads  us. 

The  smaller  bell,  in  the  upper  embrasure,  bears 
the  inscription:  "Sancta  Maria  ora  pro  nobis" — 
Holy  Mary,  pray  for  us. 

27 


The  Campanile  stands  just  within  the  cemetery 
wall.  Originally  it  appeared  to  rest  upon  a  base 
of  well-worn  granite  boulders,  brought  up  from 
the  river  bed,  and  cemented  together.  The  re 
vealing  and  destroying  storm  of  1916  showed  that 
these  boulders  were  but  a  covering  for  a  mere 
adobe  base,  which — as  evidenced  by  its  standing 
for  practically  a  whole  century — its  builders 
deemed  secure  enough  against  all  storms  and 
strong  enough  to  sustain  the  weight  of  the  super 
structure.  Resting  upon  this  base  which  was 
15  feet  high,  was  the  two-storied  tower,  the  upper 
story  terraced,  as  it  were,  upon  the  lower,  and 
smaller  in  size,  as  are  or  were  the  domes  of  the 
Campaniles  of  Santa  Barbara,  San  Luis  Rey,  San 
Buenaventura  and  Santa  Cruz.  But  at  Pala 
there  were  no  domes.  The  wall  was  pierced  and 
each  story  arched,  and  below  each  arch  hung  a  bell. 
The  apex  of  the  tower  was  in  the  curved  pediment 
style  so  familiar  to  all  students  of  Mission  archi 
tecture,  and  was  crowned  with  a  cross.  By  the  side 
of  this  cross  there  grew  a  cactus,  or  prickly  pear. 
Though  suspended  in  mid-air  where  it  could  re 
ceive  no  care,  it  has  flourished  ever  since  the 
American  visitor  has  known  it,  and  my  ancient 
Indian  friends  tell  me  it  has  been  there  ever  since 
the  tower  was  built.  This  assertion  may  be  the 
only  authority  for  the  statement  made  by  one 
writer  that: 

One  morning  just  about  a  century  ago,  a  monk  fastened 
a  cross  in  the  still  soft  adobe  on  the  top  of  the  bell  tower  and 
at  the  foot  of  the  cross  he  planted  a  cactus  as  a  token  that  the 
cross  would  conquer  the  wilderness.  From  that  day  to  this 
this  cactus  has  rested  its  spiny  side  against  that  cross,  and 
together — the  one  the  hope  and  the  inspiration  of  the  ages, 
and  the  other  a  savage  among  the  scant  bloom  of  the  desert — 

28 


they  have  calmly  surveyed  the  labor,  the  opulence,  the  de 
cline,  and  the  ruin  of  a  hundred  years. 

One  writer  sweetly  says  of  it: 

It  is  rooted  in  a  crack  of  the  adobe  tower,  close  to  the 
spot  where  the  Christian  symbol  is  fixed,  and  seemed,  I 
thought,  to  typify  how  little  of  material  substance  is  needed 
by  the  soul  that  dwells  always  at  the  foot  of  the  cross. 

Another  story  has  it  that  when  Padre  Peyri 
ordered  the  cross  placed,  it  was  of  green  oak  from 
the  Palomar  mountains.  Naturally,  the  birds 
came  and  perched  on  it,  and  probably  nested  at 
its  foot,  using  mud  for  that  purpose.  In  this 
soft  mud  a  chance  seed  took  lodgment  and  grew. 

Be  this  as  it  may  the  birds  have  always  fre 
quented  it  since  I  have  known  it,  some  of  them 
even  nesting  in  the  thorny  cactus  slabs.  On  one 
visit  I  found  a  tiny  cactus  wren  bringing  up  its 
brood  there,  while  on  another  occasion  I  could 
have  sworn  it  was  a  mocking-bird,  for  it  poured 
out  such  a  flood  of  melody  as  only  a  mocking-bird 
could,  but  whether  the  nest  there  belonged  to  the 
glorious  songster,  or  to  some  other  feathered 
creature,  I  could  not  watch  long  enough  to  tell. 

Other  birds  too,  have  utilized  this  tower  from 
which  to  launch  forth  their  symphonies  and  con 
certos.  In  the  early  mornings  of  several  of  my 
visits,  I  have  gone  out  and  sat,  perfectly  entranced, 
at  the  rich  torrents  of  exquisite  and  independent 
melody  each  bird  poured  forth  in  prodigal  exu 
berance,  and  yet  which  all  combined  in  one  chorus 
of  sweetness  and  joy  as  must  have  thrilled  the 
priestly  builder,  if,  today,  from  his  heavenly  home 
he  be  able  to  look  down  upon  the  work  of  his  hands. 

It  must  not  be  forgotten,  in  our  admiration  for 
the  separate-standing  Campanile  of  Pala,  and  the 

29 


general  belief  that  it  is  the  only  example  in  the 
world,  that  others  of  the  Franciscan  Missions  of 
California  practically  have  the  same  architectural 
feature.  While  the  well-known  campanile  of  the 
Mission  San  Gabriel  is  not,  in  strict  fact,  a  separate 
standing  one,  the  bell-tower  itself  is  merely  an 
extension  of  the  miss  on  wall  and  practically 
stands  alone.  The  same  method  of  construction 
is  followed  at  Mission  Santa  Ines.  The  fachada 
of  the  church  is  extended,  to  the  right,  as  a  wall, 
which  is  simply  a  detached  belfry.  And,  as  is  well 
known,  the  campanile  of  San  Juan  Capistrano, 
erected  after  the  fall  of  the  bell-tower  of  the  grand 
church  in  the  earthquake  of  1812,  is  a  mere  wall, 
closing  up  a  passage  between  two  buildings,  with 
pierced  apertures  in  which  the  bells  are  hung. 


CHAPTER  V. 

The  Decline  of  San  Luis  Rey  and  Pala. 


The  original  purpose  of  the  Spanish  Council,  as 
well  as  of  the  Church,  in  founding  the  Missions  of 
California,  was  to  train  the  Indians  in  the  ways  of 
Christianity  and  civilization,  and,  ultimately,  to 
make  citizens  of  them  when  it  was  deemed  they  had 
progressed  far  enough  and  were  stable  enough  in 
character  to  justify  such  a  step. 

How  long  this  training  period  would  require 
none  ventured  to  assert,  but  whether  fifty  years,  a 
hundred,  or  five  hundred,  the  Church  undertook 
the  task  and  was  prepared  to  carry  it  out. 

When,  however,  the  republic  of  Mexico  fell 
upon  evil  days  and  such  self-seekers  as  Santa  Anna 
became  president,  the  greedy  politicians  of  Mex 
ico  and  the  province  of  California  saw  an  op 
portunity  to  feather  their  own  nests  at  the  expense 
of  the  Indians.  Let  the  reader  for  a  few  moments 
picture  the  general  situation.  Here,  in  Cali 
fornia,  there  were  twenty-one  Missions  and  quite 
a  number  of  branches,  or  asistencias.  In  each 
Mission  from  one  to  three  thousand  Indians  were 
assembled,  under  competent  direction  and  busi 
ness  management.  It  can  readily  be  seen  that 
fields  grew  fertile,  flocks  and  herds  increased,  and 
possessions  of  a  variety  of  kinds  multiplied  under 
such  conditions.  All  these  accumulations,  how 
ever,  it  must  not  be  forgotten,  were  not  regarded 
by  the  padres  as  their  own  property,  or  that  of  the 

31 


Church.  They  were  merely  held  in  trust  for  the 
benefit  of  the  Indians,  and,  when  the  time  eventu 
ally  arrived,  were  to  be  distributed  as  the  sole 
and  individual  property  of  the  Indians. 

Had  that  time  arrived?  There  is  but  one 
opinion  in  the  minds  of  the  authorities,  even  those 
who  do  not  in  all  things  approve  of  the  missionaries 
and  their  work.  For  instance,  Hittell  says: 

In  other  cases  it  has  required  hundreds  of  years  to  educate 
savages  up  to  the  point  of  making  citizens,  and  many  hun 
dreds  to  make  good  citizens.  The  idea  of  at  once  trans 
forming  the  idle,  improvident  and  brutish  natives  of  Cali 
fornia  into  industrious,  law-abiding  and  self-governing  town 
people  was  preposterous. 

Yet  this — the  making  of  citizens  of  the  Indians — 
was  the  plea  under  which  the  Missions  were  secu 
larized.  The  plea  was  a  paltry  falsehood.  The 
Missions  were  the  plum  for  which  the  politicians 
strove.  Here  is  what  Clinch  writes  of  San  Luis  Rey: 

Under  Peyri's  administration,  despite  its  disadvantages 
of  soil,  San  Luis  Rey  grew  steadily  in  population  and  material 
prosperity.  In  1800  cattle  and  horses  were  six  hundred  and 
sheep  sixteen  hundred.  The  wheat  harvest  gave  two  thou 
sand  bushels,  but  corn  and  beans  were  failures  and  barley 
only  gave  a  hundred  and  twenty  fanegas.  Ten  years  later 
11,000  fanegas  of  all  kinds  of  grain  were  gathered  as  a  crop. 
Cattle  had  grown  to  ten  thousand  five  hundred  and  sheep 
and  hogs  nearly  ten  thousand.  The  Indians  had  increased 
to  fifteen  hundred.  Fourteen  hundred  and  fifty  had 
been  baptized  while  there  had  been  only  four  hundred  deaths 
recorded.  By  1826  the  parent  mission  counted  nearly  three 
thousand  Christian  Indians  and  nearly  a  thousand  gathered 
at  Pala,  six  leagues  from  the  central  establishment.  A 
church  was  built  there  and  a  priest  usually  resided  at  it. 
At  its  best  time  San  Luis  Rey  counted  nearly  thirty  thou 
sand  cattle,  as  many  sheep  and  over  two  thousand  horses 
as  the  property  of  its  three  thousand  Indians.  Its  average 
grain  crop  was  about  thirteen  thousand  bushels.  San  Gabriel 
surpassed  it  in  farming  prosperity  with  a  crop  which  reached 

32 


thirty  thousand  bushels  in  a  year,  but  in  population,  in  live 
stock,  in  the  low  death  rate  among  its  Indians  and  in  the 
character  of  its  church  and  buildings,  San  Luis  Rey  continued 
to  the  end  first  among  the  Franciscan  missions. 

It  can  well  be  imagined,  therefore,  that  when  the 
Mexican  politicians  decided  that  the  time  had 
arrived  to  secularize  the  Missions,  San  Luis  Rey 
would  be  one  of  the  first  to  be  laid  hold  of.  Pablo 
de  la  Portilla  and  later,  Pio  Pico,  were  appointed  the 
commissioners,  and  it  seems  to  be  the  general  opinion 
that  they  were  no  better  than  those  who  operated 
at  the  other  Missions,  and  of  whom  Hittell  writes: 

The  great  mass  of  the  commissioners  and  their  officials, 
whose  duty  it  became  to  administer  the  properties  of  the 
missions,  and  especially  their  great  numbers  of  horses,  cattle, 
sheep  and  other  animals,  thought  of  little  else  and  accomplish 
ed  little  else  than  enriching  themselves.  It  cannot  be  said 
that  the  spoliation  was  immediate;  but  it  was  certainly  very 
rapid.  A  few  years  sufficed  to  strip  the  establishments  of 
everything  of  value  and  leave  the  Indians,  who  were  in 
contemplation  of  law  the  beneficiaries  of  secularization,  a 
shivering  crowd  of  naked,  and,  so  to  speak,  homeless  wan 
derers  upon  the  face  of  the  earth. 

It  is  almost  impossible  for  one  who  has  not 
given  the  matter  due  study  to  realize  the  demoraliz 
ing  effect  upon  the  Indians  and  the  Mission  build 
ings  of  this  infamous  course  of  procedure.  The 
Indians  speedily  became  the  prey  of  the  vicious, 
the  abandoned,  the  hyenas  and  vultures  of  so- 
called  civilization.  Deprived  of  the  parental 
care  of  the  fathers,  and  led  astray  on  every  hand, 
their  corruption  spelt  speedy  extinction,  and  two 
or  three  generations  saw  this  largely  accomplished. 
Only  those  Indians  who  were  too  far  away  to  be 
easily  reached  escaped,  or  partially  escaped,  the 
general  destruction.  The  processes  were  swift, 
the  results  lamentably  certain. 

33 


CHAPTER  VI. 

The  Author  of  Ramona  at  Pala. 


When  Helen  Hunt  Jackson,  the  gifted  author  of 
the  romance  Ramona — over  which  hundreds  of 
thousands  of  Americans  have  shed  bitter  tears 
in  deep  sympathy  with  the  wrongs  perpetrated 
upon  the  Indians — was  visiting  the  Mission 
Indians  of  California,  in  1883,  she  wrote  the  fol 
lowing  sketch  of  Pala.  This  is  copied  from  her 
California  and  the  Missions,  by  kind  permission 
of  the  publishers,  Little,  Brown  &  Co.,  of  Boston: 

One  of  the  most  beautiful  appanages  of  the  San  Luis  Rey 
Mission,  in  the  time  of  its  prosperity,  was  the  Pala  Valley. 
It  lies  about  twenty-five  miles  east  (twenty  miles,  Ed.)  of 
San  Luis,  among  broken  spurs  of  the  Coast  Range,  watered 
by  the  San  Luis  River,  and  also  by  its  own  little  stream, 
the  Pala  Creek.  It  was  always  a  favorite  home  of  the  In 
dians;  and  at  the  time  of  the  secularization,  over  a  thousand 
of  them  used  to  gather  at  the  weekly  mass  in  its  chapel. 
Now,  on  the  occasional  visits  of  the  San  Juan  Capistrano 
priest,  to  hold  service  there,  the  dilapidated  little  church 
is  not  half  filled,  and  the  numbers  are  growing  smaller  each 
year.  The  buildings  are  all  in  decay;  the  stone  steps  lead 
ing  to  the  belfry  have  crumbled;  the  walls  of  the  little  grave 
yard  are  broken  in  many  places,  the  paling  and  the  graves 
are  thrown  down.  On  the  day  we  were  there,  a  memorial 
service  for  the  dead  was  going  on  in  the  chapel;  a  great  square 
altar  was  draped  with  black,  decorated  with  silver  lace  and 
ghostly  funereal  emblems;  candles  were  burning;  a  row  of 
kneeling  black-shawled  women  were  holding  lighted  candles 
in  their  hands;  two  old  Indians  were  chanting  a  Latin  hymn 
from  a  tattered  missal  bound  in  rawhide;  the  whole  place 
was  full  of  chilly  gloom,  in  sharp  contrast  to  the  bright  valley 

34 


Just  Entering  Pala  Valley  on  the  Road  from  Oceanside. 


An    Ancient    Pala    Indian. 


outside,  with  its  sunlight  and  silence.  This  mass  was  for 
the  soul  of  an  old  Indian  woman  named  Margarita,  sister  of 
Manuelito,  a  somewhat  famous  chief  of  several  bands  of  the 
San  Luisefios.  Her  home  was  at  the  Potrero, — a  mountain 
meadow,  or  pasture,  as  the  word  signifies, — about  ten  miles 
from  Pala,  high  up  the  mountainside,  and  reached  by  an 
almost  impassable  road.  This  farm — or  "saeter"  it  would 
be  called  in  Norway — was  given  to  Margarita  by  the  friars; 
and  by  some  exceptional  good  fortune  she  had  a  title  which, 
it  is  said,  can  be  maintained  by  her  heirs.  In  1871,  in  a 
revolt  of  some  of  Manuelito's  bands,  Margarita  was  hung 
up  by  her  wrists  till  she  was  near  dying,  but  was  cut  down 
at  the  last  minute  and  saved. 

One  of  her  daughters  speaks  a  little  English;  and  finding 
that  we  had  visited  Pala  solely  on  account  of  our  interest 
in  the  Indians,  she  asked  us  to  come  up  to  the  Potrero  and 
pass  the  night.  She  said  timidly  that  they  had  plenty  of 
beds,  and  would  do  all  that  they  knew  how  to  do  to  make 
us  comfortable.  One  might  be  in  many  a  dear-priced  hotel 
less  comfortably  lodged  and  served  than  we  were  by  these 
hospitable  Indians  in  their  mud  house,  floored  with  earth. 
In  my  bedroom  were  three  beds,  all  neatly  made,  with  lace- 
trimmed  sheets  and  pillow-cases  and  patchwork  coverlids. 
One  small  square  window  with  a  wooden  shutter  was  the  only 
aperture  for  air,  and  there  was  no  furniture  except  one  chair 
and  a  half-dozen  trunks.  The  Indians,  like  the  Norwegian 
peasants,  keep  their  clothes  and  various  properties  all  neatly 
packed  away  in  boxes  or  trunks.  As  I  fell  asleep,  I  wondered 
if  in  the  morning  I  should  see  Indian  heads  on  the  pillows 
opposite  me;  the  whole  place  was  swarming  with  men,  women, 
and  babies,  and  it  seemed  impossible  for  them  to  spare  so 
many  beds;  but,  no,  when  I  waked,  there  were  the  beds  still 
undisturbed;  a  soft-eyed  Indian  girl  was  on  her  knees  rum 
maging  in  one  of  the  trunks;  seeing  me  awake,  she  murmured 
a  few  words  in  Indian,  which  conveyed  her  apology  as  well  as 
if  I  had  understood  them.  From  the  very  bottom  of  the 
trunk  she  drew  out  a  gilt-edged  china  mug,  darted  out  of  the 
room,  and  came  back  bringing  it  filled  with  fresh  water. 
As  she  set  it  in  the  chair,  in  which  she  had  already  put  a  tin 
pan  of  water  and  a  clean  coarse  towel,  she  smiled,  and  made 
a  sign  that  it  was  for  my  teeth.  There  was  a  thoughtfulness 
and  delicacy  in  the  attention  which  lifted  it  far  beyond  the 
level  of  its  literal  value.  The  gilt-edged  mug  was  her  most 

35 


precious  possession;  and,  in  remembering  water  for  the  teeth, 
she  had  provided  me  with  the  last  superfluity  in  the  way  of 
white  man's  comfort  of  which  she  could  think. 

The  food  which  they  gave  us  was  a  surprise;  it  was  far 
better  than  we  had  found  the  night  before  in  the  house  of  an 
Austrian  colonel's  son,  at  Pala.  Chicken,  deliciously  cooked, 
with  rice  and  chile;  soda-biscuits  delicately  made;  good  milk 
and  butter,  all  laid  in  orderly  fashion,  with  a  clean  tablecloth, 
and  clean,  white  stone  china.  When  I  said  to  our  hostess 
that  I  regretted  very  much  that  they  had  given  up  their  beds 
in  my  room,  that  they  ought  not  to  have  done  it,  she  answered 
me  with  a  wave  of  her  hand  that  "It  was  nothing;  they  hoped 
I  had  slept  well;  that  they  had  plenty  of  other  beds."  The 
hospitable  lie  did  not  deceive  me,  for  by  examination  I  had 
convinced  myself  that  the  greater  part  of  the  family  must 
have  slept  on  the  bare  earth  in  the  kitchen.  They  would 
not  have  taken  pay  for  our  lodging,  except  that  they  had 
had  heavy  expenses  connected  with  Margarita's  funeral.. ..We 
left  at  six  o'clock  in  the  morning;  Margarita's  husband,  the 
"captain,"  riding  off  with  us  to  see  us  safe  on  our  way.  When 
we  had  passed  the  worst  gullies  and  boulders,  he  whirled  his 
horse,  lifted  his  ragged  old  sombrero  with  the  grace  of  a 
cavalier,  smiled,  wished  us  good-day  and  good  luck,  and  was 
out  of  sight  in  a  second,  his  little  wild  pony  galloping  up  the 
rough  trail  as  if  it  were  as  smooth  as  a  race-course. 

Between  the  Potrero  and  Pala  are  two  Indian  villages,  the 
Rincon  and  Pauma.  The  Rincon  is  at  the  head  of  the  valley, 
snugged  up  against  the  mountains,  as  its  name  signifies,  in  a 
"corner."  Here  were  fences,  irrigating  ditches,  fields  of 
barley,  wheat,  hay  and  peas;  a  little  herd  of  horses  and  cows 
grazing,  and  several  flocks  of  sheep.  The  men  were  all  away 
sheep-shearing;  the  women  were  at  work  in  the  fields,  some 
hoeing,  some  clearing  out  the  irrigating  ditches,  and  all  the 
old  women  plaiting  baskets.  These  Rincon  Indians,  we  were 
told,  had  refused  a  school  offered  them  by  the  Government; 
they  said  they  would  accept  nothing  at  the  hands  of  the 
Government  until  it  gave  them  a  title  to  their  lands. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

Further  Desolation 


Cursed  by  the  common  fate  of  the  Missions 
Pala  suffered  severely.  In  thirty  years  all  its 
glory  had  departed  as  Mrs.  Jackson  graphically 
pictures  in  the  preceding  chapter.  But  Pala 
was  destined  to  receive  another  blow.  This  is 
explained  by  Professor  Frank  J.  Polley,  formerly 
President  of  the  Southern  California  Historical 
Society.  In  the  early  'nineties  he  visited  Pala 
and  from  an  article  published  by  him  in  1893 
the  following  accompanying  extracts  are  quoted: 

Mr.  Viele,  the  present  owner  of  most  of  the  old  Mission 
property,  is  the  only  white  man  residing  nearby.  His  store 
and  dwelling  is  a  long,  low  adobe,  opposite  the  church.  Nearby 
is  his  blacksmith  shop,  and  in  the  open  space  between  the 
church  ruins  and  the  river  are  the  remains  of  the  brush 
booths  used  by  the  people  at  the  yearly  festival,  and  these, 
with  the  remnants  of  the  mission  buildings,  corral  walls,  and 
the  quaint  Indian  church  with  its  beautiful  bell  tower,  consti 
tute  the  Pala  of  today. 

The  question  naturally  arises:  How  did  Mr. 
Viele  gain  possession  and  ownership  of  the  Mission 
property?  In  the  course  of  his  narrative  Professor 
Polley  gives  the  answer: 

Trading  with  the  Indians  is  a  slow  but  simple  process. 
An  uncouth  Indian  figure  in  strange  garb  will  silently  enter 
the  store,  and,  with  hat  in  hand,  stand  motionless  in  the 
center  of  the  room  until  Mrs.  Viele  chooses  to  recognize  him. 
Then  follow  rapid  sentences  in  the  guttural  tone,  she  executes 

37 


her  judgment  in  supplying  his  wants  and  hands  out  the  parcel, 
but  the  figure  stands  silently  and  motionless  as  before.  Time 
passes,  and  soon  the  Indian  is  leaning  against  the  center  post. 
A  little  later  the  position  is  swiftly  changed,  and  next  when 
one  thinks  of  him  the  figure  has  vanished  and  rejoined  the 
group  who  are  smoking  their  cigarettes  by  the  fence.  Money 
is  seldom  paid  until  after  their  crops  are  sold.  With  the 
squaw  the  transaction  is  different  in  this  respect.  Like  her 
European  sister,  every  piece  of  cloth  has  to  be  unrolled  before 
purchasing;  otherwise  it  is  much  the  same  as  with  the  men. 
Both  men  and  women  are  very  coarse,  education  and  morality 
are  on  a  very  low  plane,  the  marital  vow  seems  to  be  but 
little  regarded,  and  it  is  no  uncommon  thing  to  see,  within 
the  shadow  of  the  mission  walls,  five  or  six  couples  living  in 
common  in  one  room.  The  race  is  fast  dying  out  from  disease, 
for  which  the  white  people  are  largely  responsible.  Unable 
to  cope  with  these  new  ills,  suspicious  of  the  government 
doctor,  and  treated  like  common  property  by  the  lower  white 
element  in  the  mountain  regions,  the  Indians  are  jealous  and 
distrustful  of  all;  even  the  sick,  instead  of  being  brought  to 
the  settlement  for  treatment,  are  secreted  in  the  hills.  One 
old  squaw  of  uncertain  age  came  each  day  in  a  clumsy  shuffle 
to  the  gate,  and  there  sank  her  fat  body  into  an  almost 
indistinguishable  heap  of  rags  and  flesh.  The  gift  of  a 
cigarette  would  temporarily  arouse  her  to  animation;  other 
wise  she  would  sit  there  for  hours,  apparently  oblivious  to  all 
that  was  passing,  and  certainly  ignored  by  all  in  the  house 
except  myself.  The  education  of  the  Indian  here  is  a  serious 
problem.  They  do  not  attend  the  county  school,  nor  are 
they  encouraged  to  come,  as  their  morals  are  demoralizing 
to  the  rest  of  the  class.  The  chief,  or  captain,  is  elected  by 
the  tribe,  and,  though  only  about  30  years  of  age,  the  present 
one  has  had  his  position  a  long  time.  His  duties  are  light,  and 
he  is  careful  in  executing  his  authority.  He  is  a  reasonably 
bright  fellow,  speaks  English  fairly  well  and  often  succeeds 
in  securing  justice  for  his  tribe  in  the  way  of  government 
supplies.  The  balance  of  his  time  he  cultivates  a  little  patch 
of  garden,  and  seems  to  enjoy  life  after  the  Indian  fashion. 

Procuring  the  church  keys  was  not  so  simple  a  matter,  as 
the  building  is  now  closed  and  services  are  held  at  very  rare 
intervals.  This  is  the  result  of  litigation.  The  law  has 
invaded  this  sheltered  haven.  Years  ago,  when  times  were 
different  and  the  mission  was  making  some  pretense  to  be  a 

38 


living  church,  in  the  course  of  their  duties  a  party  of  govern 
ment  surveyors  came  here.  As  a  result  of  their  surveys  one 
of  them  told  Mr.  Viele  in  confidence  that  the  entire  mission 
holdings,  olive  orchards  and  lands  were  all  on  government 
property.  Mr.  Viele  at  once  took  steps  to  claim  all,  and  did 
so.  The  secret  leaked  out,  and  others  came  in  and  attempted 
to  settle  on  parts  of  the  property  under  various  claims  of 
title,  and  soon  the  Catholic  church  and  the  claimants  were 
engaged  in  a  long  lawsuit,  which  proved  the  death  struggle 
of  the  church's  interests.  Mr.  Viele  emerged  victorious,  sole 
owner  of  the  church,  the  orchard,  the  bells,  and  even  the 
graveyard.  Afterward,  by  deed  of  gift,  he  gave  the  church 
authorities  the  tumble-down  ruin  of  the  church,  the  dark 
adobe  robing  room,  the  bells  and  the  graveyard,  but, 
because  Mr.  Viele  still  withheld  the  valuable  lands  from  the 
church,  no  services  are  held  there,  and  the  quarrel  has  gone 
on  year  by  year.  Mr.  Viele  clings  to  what  he  terms  his  legal 
rights,  and  the  church  is  locked  up  and  the  Indian  left 
largely  to  his  own  devices.  Once  in  possession  of  the  keys, 
we  found  them  immense  pieces  of  iron,  and  it  took  some  time 
to  unlock  the  door.  The  services  of  one  of  the  Indian  pupils 
materially  assisted  us  in  our  investigations.  The  church 
is  a  veritable  curiosity,  narrow,  long,  low  and  dark,  with 
adobe  walls  and  heavy  beams  roughly  set  in  the  sides  to 
furnish  support  for  the  roof.  Canes  and  tules  constitute 
this  part  of  the  structure.  The  earthen  walls  are  covered 
with  rude  paintings  of  Indian  design  and  of  strange  coloring 
that  have  preserved  their  tone  very  well  indeed.  Great 
square  bricks  badly  worn  pave  the  floor,  and,  set  in  deep 
niches  along  the  walls  at  intervals,  are  various  utensils  of 
battered  copper  and  brass  that  would  arouse  the  cupidity 
of  a  collector  of  bric-a-brac.  The  door  is  strongly  barred  and 
has  iron  plates  set  with  large  rivets.  The  strange  light  that 
comes  through  the  narrow  windows  and  broken  roof  sheds  an 
unnatural  glow  on  the  paintings  upon  the  walls  and  puts  into 
strange  relief  the  ruined  altar  far  distant  in  the  church. 
Three  wooden  images  yet  remain  upon  the  altar,  but  they 
are  sadly  broken  and  their  vestments  are  gone.  One  is  a 
statute  of  St.  Louis,  and  is  held  in  great  veneration  by  the 
Indians.  They  say  it  was  secretly  brought  from  the  San 
Luis  Rey  Mission  and  placed  here  for  safe  keeping.  When 
the  annual  reunion  of  the  Indians  takes  place  this  image  is 
decorated  in  cheap  trappings  and  occupies  the  post  of  honor 


in  the  procession.  The  robing  room  is  a  small,  dark  apart 
ment  behind  the  altar,  where  not  a  ray  of  light  could  enter. 
We  dragged  a  trunkful  of  altar  trappings  and  saints'  vest 
ments  out  into  the  light.  The  dust  lay  thickly  upon  the 
garments  in  these  old  chests,  and  it  is  to  be  hoped  that  no 
one  with  a  shade  less  of  morality  than  we  had  will  ever  explore 
their  treasures,  or  the  church  may  be  robbed  and  the  images 
suffer  much  loss  of  their  decorative  attire.  Undoubtedly 
everything  of  value  has  long  since  been  removed,  but  what 
remains  is  very  quaint  and  odd,  being  largely  of  Indian  work 
manship.  Everything  about  this  simple  structure  spoke 
of  slow  and  patient  work  by  the  native  workmen,  and  it  needed 
but  little  imaginative  power  to  conjure  up  the  scene  when  men 
were  hauling  trees  from  the  mountains,  making  the  shallow, 
square  bricks,  preparing  the  adobe,  and  later  painting  these 
walls  as  earnestly  perhaps  as  did  some  of  the  greater  artists 
in  the  gorgeous  chapels  of  cultivated  Rome.  The  hinges 
creaked  loudly  and  the  great  key  grated  harshly  in  the  rusty 
lock  as  we  spent  some  time  in  securing  the  fastenings  at  our 
departure.  The  beauty  of  the  valley  and  the  bright  sun 
light  were  in  great  contrast  to  the  cool  shadows  of  the  dimly- 
lighted  church.  Once  outside,  we  again  made  the  circuit  of  the 
outlying  walls,  where  birds  sing  and  grasses  grow  from  the 
ruined  walls  of  the  adobes.  Through  gaps  in  them  we  passed 
from  one  enclosure  to  another,  this  one  roofless,  that  one 
nearly  so,  and  a  third  so  patched  up  as  to  hold  a  few  Indians 
who  make  it  their  home,  and  in  tiny  gardens  cultivate  a  few 
flowers  or  vegetables  and  prepare  their  food  in  basins  sunken 
in  the  firm  earth.  A  few  baskets  are  yet  left  in  this  commun 
ity,  but  of  poor  quality,  the  more  valuable  ones  having  been 
long  since  gathered  by  collectors,  or  sold  and  gambled  by  the 
Indians  themselves.  Many  curious  relics  still  exist,  however, 
for  those  who  are  willing  to  pay  several  times  the  value  of 
each  article. 

Pala  remained  in  much  the  same  condition 
described  above,  its  Indians  slowly  decreasing  in 
numbers,  until  the  events  occurred  described  in 
the  following  chapters. 


40 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

The  Restoration  of  the  Pala  Chapel. 


In  the  restoration  of  Pala  chapel  the  Landmarks 
Club  of  Los  Angeles,  incorporated  "to  conserve  the 
Missions  and  other  historic  landmarks  of  Southern 
California,"  under  the  energetic  presidency  of 
Charles  F.  Lummis,  did  excellent  work.  November 
20  to  21,  1901,  the  supervising  committee,  consist 
ing  of  architects  Hunt  and  Benton  and  the  presi 
dent,  visited  Pala  to  arrange  for  its  immediate 
repair.  The  following  is  a  report  of  its  condition 
at  the  time: 

The  old  chapel  was  found  in  much  better  condition  for 
salvage  than  had  been  feared.  The  earthquake  of  two  years 
ago — which  was  particularly  severe  at  this  point — ruined  the 
roof  and  cracked  the  characteristic  belfry,  which  stands  apart. 
But  thanks  to  repairs  to  the  roof  made  five  or  six  years  ago 
by  the  unassisted  people,  the  adobe  walls  of  the  chapel  are  in 
excellent  preservation.  Even  the  quaint  old  Indian  decora 
tions  have  suffered  almost  nothing.  The  tile  floor  is  in  better 
condition  than  at  any  of  the  other  Missions,  but  hardly  a 
vestige  of  the  adobe-pillared  cloister  remains.  Tiles  are 
falling  into  the  chapel  through  yawning  gaps,  and  it  is  really 
dangerous  to  enter.  It  will  be  necessary  to  re-roof  the  entire 
structure.  The  sound  tiles  will  be  carefully  stacked  on  the 
ground,  the  timbers  removed,  and  a  solid  roof-structure 
built,  upon  which  the  original  tiles  will  be  replaced.  The 
original  construction  will  be  followed;  and  round  pine  logs 
will  be  procured  from  Mt.  Palomar  to  replace  those  no  longer 
dependable.  The  cloisters  will  be  rebuilt  precisely  as  they 
were,  and  invisible  iron  bands  will  be  used  to  strengthen  the 
campanile  against  possible  later  earthquakes. 

41 


Then  follows  an  interesting  account  of  a  small 
gathering,  after  the  committee  had  formulated 
its  plans,  which  took  place  in  the  little  store.  Here 
is  Mr.  Lummis's  account  of  it: 

The  immediate  valley  contains  about  a  dozen  "American" 
families,  and  about  as  many  more  Mexicans  and  Indians,  and 
about  15  heads  of  these  families  were  present.  After  a  brief 
statement  of  the  situation,  the  Palenos  were  asked  if  they 
would  help.  "I  will  give  10  days'  work",  said  John  A.  Gid- 
dens,  the  first  to  respond.  "Another  ten,"  said  Luis  Carillo. 
And  so  it  went.  There  was  not  a  man  present  who  did  not 
promise  assistance.  The  following  additional  subscriptions 
were  taken  in  ten  minutes:  Ami  V.  Golsh,  25  days'  work; 
Luis  Soberano,  15  days;  Isidore  Garcia,  10  days;  Teofilo 
Peters  and  Louis  Salmons,  5  days  each  with  team  (equivalent 
to  10  days  for  a  man);  Dolores  Salazar,  Eustaquio  Lugo, 
Tomas  Salazar,  Ignacio  Valenzuela,  6  days  each;  Geo.  Steiger 
and  Francisco  Ardillo,  5  days  each.  These  subscriptions 
amount  to  at  least  $1.75  a  day  each,  so  the  Pala  contribution 
in  work  is  full  $217.  Besides  this  Mr.  Frank  A.  Salmons 
subscribed  $10;  and  other  contributions  are  expected.  It 
is  also  fitting  that  the  Club  acknowledge  gratefully  the  court 
esies  which  gave  two  days  of  Mr.  Golsh's  time  to  bringing 
the  committee  from  and  back  to  Fallbrook,  and  the  charm 
ing  entertainment  provided  by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Salmons.  The 
entire  trip  was  heart-warming;  and  the  liberal  spirit  of  this 
little  settlement  of  American  ranchers  and  Indians  and  Mexi 
cans  surpasses  all  records  in  the  Club's  history.  For  that 
matter,  while  Mr.  Carnegie  is  better  known,  he  has  never  yet 
done  anything  so  large  in  proportion. 

In  July,  1903,  Out  West,  an  account  was  given 
of  the  repairs  accomplished.  The  chapel,  a  build 
ing  144x27  feet,  and  rooms  to  its  right,  47x27  feet, 
were  reroofed  with  brick  tiles;  the  broken  walls 
of  the  entire  front  built  up  solidly  and  substantially 
to  the  roof  level,  the  ugly  posts  from  the  center  of 
the  chapel  taken  out  and  the  trusses  strengthened 
by  the  addition  of  the  tension  members  which  the 

42 


Hg 


The    Lower    Bell    in    the    Pala   Campanile. 


original  builders  had  failed  to  supply.  This  greatly 
improved  the  appearance  of  the  chapel. 

Another  beneficial  service  rendered  was  the 
securing  of  a  deed  from  the  squatter,  whose  story 
is  told  in  another  chapter,  to  the  picturesque 
ruins  and  thus  transfering  them  back  to  their  right 
ful  owners — the  Catholic  church,  in  trust  for  the 
Indians. 

Unfortunately,  soon  after  the  Palatinguas  came 
here,  the  resident  priest,  whom  Bishop  Conaty 
appointed  to  minister  to  them,  did  not  under 
stand  Indians,  their  childlike  devotion  to  the 
things  hallowed  by  association  with  the  past,  and 
their  desire  to  be  consulted  about  everything  that 
concerned  their  interests.  Therefore,  being  sus 
picious,  too,  on  account  of  their  recent  eviction, 
they  were  outraged  to  find  the  chapel  interior 
freshly  whitewashed  so  that  all  its  ancient  decora 
tions  were  covered.  This  was  another  white  man's 
affront  which  caused  irritation  and  bitterness  that 
it  required  months  to  assuage. 


43 


CHAPTER  IX. 

The  Palatingua  Exiles. 


States  and  nations,  even  as  individuals,  are  often 
tempted  in  diverse  ways  to  forsake  the  path  of 
rectitude,  and,  for  material  gain,  territorial  ac 
quisition,  or  other  supposed  good,  to  do  dishonor 
able  things.  To  my  mind  one  of  the  chief  blots 
on  the  escutcheon  of  the  United  States  is  its  treat 
ment  of  the  Indians,  and  California,  as  a  sovereign 
state,  cannot  escape  its  individual  responsibility 
for  its  utterly  reprehensible  treatment  of  its  dusky 
"original  inhabitants." 

When  the  Spaniards  seized  the  land  their  laws 
were  clean-cut  and  clear  in  regard  to  the  confisca 
tion  of  the  lands  of  the  Indians.  It  was  made  the 
duty  of  certain  officials,  under  direct  penalties, 
to  see  that  they  were  never,  under  any  excuse, 
pretense,  or  even  legal  process,  deprived  of  the 
lands  they  had  held  from  time  immemorial.  The 
Mexicans,  in  the  main,  effectually  carried  out  the 
same  just  and  equitable  laws.  But  when  the 
United  States  took  possession  of  California  and 
the  new  state  government  was  formally  organized, 
a  new  idea  was  interjected.  The  California  law 
proclaimed  its  intention  to  protect  the  rights  of 
the  Indians,  but  it  made  it  the  duty  of  the  Indians, 
within  a  certain  specified  time,  to  come  before  a 
duly  authorized  officer  and  declare  what  lands 
were  theirs  and  that  they  intended  to  claim  and 

44 


use.  Now  while  on  the  face  of  it  this  law  seems 
reasonable  and  just,  in  actual  practice  it  is  as 
cruel,  wicked,  and  surely  confiscating  as  is  the 
"stand  and  deliver!"  of  the  highwayman.  How 
were  the  Indians  to  know  what  was  required  of 
them?  What  did  they  know  of  the  white  man 
and  his  laws?  As  well  pass  a  law  that  all  the 
birds  who  do  not  declare  their  intention  of  using 
the  branches  of  certain  trees  will  be  shot  if  they 
appear  there,  as  pass  laws  requiring  Indians, 
ignorant  of  our  language,  our  methods  of  pro 
cedure,  to  appear  and  declare  that  they  intend  to 
continue  to  use  lands  they  had  had  uninterrupted 
possession  of  for  unknown  centuries.  In  other 
words,  the  law  fiction  was  a  deliberate  and  definite 
scheme  of  dishonest  men  to  make  legal  the  dis 
possession  of  the  Indians,  whenever  it  was  found 
desirable.  Such  a  case  in  due  time  arose  at 
Warner's  Ranch.  Other  cases  innumerable  might 
be  cited,  but  this  is  the  one  that  particularly  con 
cerns  Pala. 

Warner's  Ranch  was  named  after  Jonathan 
Trumbull  Warner,  popularly  known  to  the  Mexi 
cans  as  Juan  Jose  Warner,  who  came  from  Lyme, 
Conn.,  by  way  of  St.  Louis,  Santa  Fe  and  the  Gila 
River,  to  California,  in  1831.  In  1834  he  settled 
down  in  Los  Angeles,  marrying,  in  1837,  at  San 
Luis  Rey  Mission,  Anita  Gale,  the  daughter  of 
Capt.  W.  A.  Gale,  of  Boston.  The  maiden,  how 
ever,  had  been  in  California  ever  since  she  was 
five  years  old,  her  father  having  placed  her  in  the 
home  of  Dona  Eustaquia  Pico,  the  widowed 
mother  of  Pio  Pico,  the  last  Mexican  Governor  of 
California.  In  due  time  he  (Warner)  was  natur 
alized  as  a  Mexican  citizen  and  received  from  the 

45 


Mexican  Governor  in  1844  the  grant  of  an  im 
mense  tract  of  land  in  San  Diego  County,  long 
known  as  El  Valle  de  San  Jose.  It  was  fine  pasture 
land,  but  it  was  especially  noted  for  its  hot  springs 
— Agua  Caliente — near  which  the  Indians  had 
had  their  village  from  time  immemorial.  Accord 
ing  to  Spanish  and  Mexican  law,  it  must  be  re 
membered,  their  right  to  their  homes  and  adjacent 
pasture  lands  was  inalienable  without  their  own 
consent.  Hence  under  Warner's  regime  they  lived 
content  and  happy,  uninterfered  with,  and  never 
worried  that  a  grant — of  which  they  knew  nothing 
— had  been  made  of  their  lands  without  any  clause 
of  exemption  preserving  to  them  their  time-honored 
rights. 

Then  came  Fremont,  Sloat  and  Kearny.  Cali 
fornia  became  a  state  of  the  United  States  and 
among  other  laws  passed  the  one  referring  to  the 
lands  of  the  Indians  noted  above.  As  he  passed 
by  Palatingua,  Genl.  Kearny,  according  to  the 
oldest  man  of  the  village,  Owlinguwush,  who  acted 
as  his  guide,  solemnly  pledged  his  government 
not  to  remove  the  Indians  from  their  lands,  pro 
vided  they  would  be  friends  of  the  new  people. 

This  the  Indians  were.  The  white  people  soon 
learned  the  value  of  the  hot  springs,  and  flocked 
thither  in  great  numbers  to  drink  and  bathe  in 
the  waters.  The  Indians  charged  them  a  small 
fee  for  the  use  of  the  bath-houses  and  tubs  they 
had  prepared.  This  added  to  their  modest  in 
come,  gained  from  their  industries  as  cattle-men, 
hunters,  farmers,  basket  and  pottery-makers. 
They  were  happy,  healthy,  fairly  prosperous  and 
contented. 

But  in  time  Warner  died.     His  grant  was  duly 

46 


confirmed  by  the  United  States  Land  Courts,  but 
no  one  cared  enough  to  see  that  the  rights  of  the 
Indians  were  guarded,  hence  the  confirmation  and 
deed  of  grant  contained  no  exemption  of  the 
Indians'  lands. 

The  ownership  changed  until  it  came  into  the 
hands  of  a  well-known  California  capitalist.  He 
was  not  interested  in  Indians,  had  no  particular 
sympathy  with  or  for  them,  and  did  not  see  why 
they  should  remain  on  his  land.  Several  times  he 
vigorously  intimated  that  he  wanted  them  to  "clear 
off,"  he  needed  the  land,  and  especially  he  needed 
the  hot  springs.  There  was  a  strongly  expressed 
desire  that  a  health  and  pleasure  resort  be  estab 
lished  at  this  charming  place,  but,  of  course,  it 
was  impossible  so  long  as  the  Indians  were  there. 
Each  time  removal  was  intimated  to  the  Indians 
they  laughed — as  children  laugh  if  you  tell  them 
you  are  going  to  buy  them  from  their  parents. 
Had  they  not  lived  here  long  before  a  white  man 
had  ever  set  foot  on  the  continent?  Were  they  not 
born  here,  raised,  married,  had  their  children, 
died  and  were  buried  here  for  centuries?  Had 
not  Spaniards,  Mexicans,  and  even  General 
Kearny  assured  them  they  were  secure  in  their 
possession?  Of  course  they  laughed!  Who  wouldn't? 

But  the  owner  of  the  land  grew  tired  of  their 
smiles.  He  wanted  the  place,  so  his  lawyers 
ordered  the  Indians  to  vacate,  and  the  papers 
were  served  in  such  manner  that  even  the  child 
like  aborigines  were  compelled  to  realize  that  some 
thing  serious  was  going  to  happen.  But  that  they 
should  be  compelled  to  leave!  Ah,  impossible!  No 
one  possibly  could  be  so  cruel  and  wicked  as  that. 

The  courts  were  appealed  to,   and  finally  the 

47 


State  Supreme  Court  decided  against  the  Indians, 
t>y  a  vote  of  four  to  three — a  decision  so  contrary 
to  the  spirit  of  honor  and  justice  that  it  aids  in 
making  anarchists  and  revolutionists  of  good  and 
law-abiding  men.  Confident  in  the  right  of  the 
Indians'  cause  their  faithful  friends  took  the  case 
up  to  the  United  States  Supreme  Court,  and  again, 
this  time  purely  on  the  plea  of  precedent — that 
it  was  contrary  to  rule  for  the  United  States 
Supreme  Court  to  interfere  in  any  case  that  was 
purely  domestic  to  one  State — the  judgment  ousting 
the  Indians  was  confirmed. 

Things  now  began  to  look  serious.  Some  of  the 
Indians  were  crushed  by  the  decision,  others  were 
ugly  and  wanted  to  fight.  Various  people  of 
various  temperaments  interfered,  and  each  one 
denounced  the  others  as  trouble-makers  and  brew 
ers  of  mischief.  Council  after  council  was  held, 
and  at  each  one  the  Indians  stedfastly  refused  to 
leave  their  homes. 

In  the  meantime,  realizing  that  the  suit  for 
eviction  most  probably  would  go  against  the 
Indians,  certain  societies  and  individuals,  prompted 
by  their  interest  in  them  and  by  their  inherent 
sense  of  justice,  appealed  to  Congress  to  find  a  new 
home  for  these  people  if  they  were  dispossessed. 

For  the  first  time  in  its  history,  Congress  voted 
$100,000  to  give  to  these  Indians  a  better  home 
than  the  one  they  were  to  be  evicted  from.  A 
special  inspector  was  sent  out  to  determine  where 
this  new  home  should  be.  He  reported  favorably 
upon  a  site,  which,  however,  better  informed  people 
in  the  state,  considered  altogether  unsuitable. 
Protests  immediately  were  lodged  with  the  Indian 
Department  and  as  the  result  a  Commission  was 

48 


appointed  to  investigate  conditions,  and  find  the 
most  suitable  place  to  which  the  Palatinguas  could 
be  transferred.  This  Commission  was  composed 
of  Charles  F.  Lummis,  Russell  C.  Allen,  and  Chas. 
L.  Partridge. 

After  weeks  of  careful  and  patient  investigation, 
criticized  on  every  hand  by  those  who  were  anxious 
to  sell  any  kind  of  an  acreage  to  the  Indians,  it 
was  finally  decided  to  recommend  the  purchase  of 
the  Pala  Valley.  Few  seemed  to  see  the  irony  of 
this  decision.  The  land  once  had  belonged  to  the 
Pala  Indians.  Less  than  a  century  before  a  thou 
sand  of  them  were  regular  attendants  at  the  little 
Mission  Chapel  and  devoted  friends  of  Padre 
Antonio  Peyri.  Whence  had  these  and  their 
descendants  gone?  How  had  they  been  de 
prived  of  their  lands?  In  another  chapter  I 
have  quoted  from  Frank  J.  Polley,  how  our  Cali 
fornia  laws  aided  and  abetted  the  spoliators  and 
how  Pala  unjustly  came  into  the  possession  of 
a  white  man. 

Now  it  must  be  bought  back  again.  There 
were  3,500  acres,  with  a  large  amount  of 
hilly  government  land  that  would  be  of  use  for 
pasturage  and  that  could  be  added  to  theful 
purchased  land  as  a  reservation.  The  Commission 
claimed,  and  doubtless  believed,  there  was  plenty 
of  water,  but  it  was  not  long  before  the  supply  was 
found  to  be  so  inadequate  that  something  had  to 
be  done  to  add  to  it.  This  has  been  done,  as  is 
elsewhere  related. 

Congress  passed  the  appropriation  bill,  made  the 
purchase,  May  27,  1902,  setting  the  land  aside  as  a 
permanent  reservation.  The  Indian  Department, 
therefore,  ordered  the  immediate  transfer  of  the 

49 


Indians  from  Palatingua,  as  well  as  small  bands 
from  Puerta  de  la  Cruz,  Puerta  Chiquita,  San 
Jose,  San  Felipe  and  Mataguaya — tiny  settlements 
on  the  fringe  of  Warner's  Ranch  and  who  were 
made  parties  to  the  ejectment  suit — to  Pala. 

Serious  trouble  was  feared.  Mr.  Lummis  wired 
for  troops  to  aid  in  the  removal,  although  his 
duties  as  head  of  the  Commission  to  choose  a  home 
for  the  Indians  gave  him  no  authority  to  act  in 
the  matter.  He  was  thereupon  ordered  from  the 
ranch,  and  the  work  of  removal  committed  to  the 
care  of  a  special  agent,  as  Dr.  L.  A.  Wright,  the 
regular  Indian  Agent,  confessed  his  inability  to 
cope  with  the  situation.  Mrs.  Babbitt,  for  many 
years  the  teacher  at  Warner's  Ranch,  and  other 
friends  of  the  Indians  counselled  acquiescence  to 
the  law's  demand.  I  was  invited  both  by  the 
Indians  and  the  Indian  Commissioner  to  be  present 
at  the  removal,  but  I  knew  that  it  would  be  too 
much  for  my  equanimity,  so  I  kept  away.  My 
friend  Grant  Wallace,  however,  was  present,  and 
in  Out  West  magazine,  for  July,  1903,  gave  the 
following  pathetic  account: 

Night  after  night,  sounds  of  wailing  came  from  the  adobe 
homes  of  the  Indians.  When  Tuesday  (May  12)  came,  many 
of  them  went  to  the  little  adobe  chapel  to  pray,  and  then 
gathered  for  the  last  time  among  the  unpainted  wooden 
crosses  within  the  rude  stockade  of  their  ancient  burying 
ground,  a  pathetic  and  forlorn  group,  to  wail  out  their  grief 
over  the  graves  of  their  fathers.  Then  hastily  loading  a  little 
food  and  a  few  valuables  into  such  light  wagons  and  surreys 
as  they  owned,  about  twenty-five  families  drove  away  for 
Pala,  ahead  of  the  wagon-train.  The  great  four  and  six- 
horse  wagons  were  quickly  loaded  with  the  home-made 
furniture,  bedding  and  clothing,  spotlessly  clean  from  re 
cent  washing  in  the  boiling  springs;  stoves,  ollas,  stone 
mortars,  window  sashes,  boxes,  baskets,  bags  of  dried  fruit 
and  acorns,  and  coops  of  chickens  and  ducks. 

50 


The   Interior  of  Pala  Chapel  as   it  Appears   Today. 


^ 


The   Pala   Bell   Tower  After  Rebuilding. 


While  I  helped  Lay-reader  Ambrosio's  mother  to  round 
up  and  encoop  a  wary  brood  of  chickens,  I  observed  the  wife 
of  her  other  son,  Jesus,  throwing  an  armful  of  books — spellers, 
arithmetics,  poems — into  the  bonfire,  along  with  bows  and 
arrows,  and  superannuated  aboriginal  bric-a-brac.  In  reply 
to  a  surprised  query,  she  explained  that  now  they  hated  the 
white  people  and  their  religion  and  their  books.  Dogged  and 
dejected,  Captain  Cibemoat,  with  his  wife  Ramona,  and 
little  girl,  was  the  last  to  go.  While  I  helped  him  hitch  a 
bony  mustang  to  his  top  buggy,  a  tear  or  two  coursed  down 
his  knife-scarred  face;  and  as  the  teamsters  tore  down  his 
little  board  cabin  wherein  he  had  kept  a  restaurant,  he  mut 
tered,  "May  they  eat  sand!"  .... 

At  their  first  stop  for  dinner  they  lingered  long  on  the  last 
acre  of  Warner's  Ranch,  as  though  loath  to  go  through  the 
gates.  At  night,  at  Oak  Grove,  they  drew  the  first  rations 
ever  issued  to  the  Cupenos  by  the  government — some  at 
first  refused  to  accept  them,  saying  they  were  not  objects 
of  charity.  .  . 

Although  devout  church  members — scarcely  a  name 
among  them  being  unwashed  by  baptism — they  refused  the 
first  Sunday  to  hold  services  in  the  restored  Pala  Mission,  or 
anywhere  else,  asking  surlily  of  the  visiting  priest,  "What 
kind  of  a  God  is  this  you  ask  us  to  worship,  who  deserts  us 
when  we  need  him  most?"  Instead,  thirty  of  them  joined 
some  swart  friends  from  Pauma  in  a  "sooish  amokat"  or 
rabbit  hunt,  killing  their  game  with  peeled  clubs  thrown  uner 
ringly  while  galloping  at  full  speed. 

Monday,  however,  the  principal  men,  better  pleased  after 
an  inspection  of  the  fertile  and  beautiful  valley  of  Pala,  had  a 
flag-raising  at  the  little  school-house — the  only  building  now 
on  the  site  of  the  projected  village.  An  Indian  girl  played 
the  organ,  and  a  score  of  dusky  children — who  will  compare 
favorably  in  intelligence  with  average  white  youngsters — 
joined  in  singing  the  praises  of  "America — sweet  land  of 
liberty."  School  was  opened,  and  later  a  policeman — young 
Antonio  Chaves — was  elected  by  popular  vote. 

Thus  came  about  the  transfer  of  the  Palatinguas 
to  Pala.  Though  they  often  longed  for  their  old 
home  it  could  not  be  denied,  even  by  them,  that 
the  location  of  Pala  is  ideal.  It  is  literally  sur 
rounded  by  mountains  that  seem  to  rise  in  huge 

51 


overlapping  rings,  each  circling  the  diminutive 
valley.  The  Pala  River  flows  through  the  settle 
ment.  Almost  every  available  foot  of  space  is 
now  under  cultivation  in  that  part  of  the  valley 
near  by,  and  further  down,  along  the  river,  where 
the  fields  broaden  out,  many  acres  are  yielding 
their  rich  and  valuable  crops. 

To  the  south  may  be  seen  the  hospitable  ranch- 
house — Agua  Tibia — of  Lewis  Utt,  an  attorney  of 
San  Diego,  who  divides  his  time  between  his  city 
office  and  his  farm.  Five  thousand  feet  above 
cluster  the  pine  trees,  the  live  oaks  and  other  rich 
arboreal  growths  of  Palomar,  the  Mountain  of  the 
Dove.  Nearby  the  rich  olive  orchards  of  John 
Fry  stretch  out  like  silken  flags  of  green.  To  the 
north,  on  the  top  of  the  Pala  grade,  the  Happy 
Valley  ranch  of  A.  M.  Lobaugh  is  a  stopping-place 
for  camper  and  tourist.  To  the  west  is  the  ex 
tensive  ranch  of  Monserrate. 

There  are  few  more  beautiful  inland  locations 
in  the  world,  and  climatically  it  is  as  perfect  as  it 
is  scenically.  For  from  the  one  side  come  the 
breezes  of  the  warm  South  Pacific  ocean,  laden  with 
the  ozone  and  bromine  of  kelp-beds  and  with  the 
refreshing  tang  of  the  salt  air,  while  from  the  other 
come  the  aseptic  breezes  of  the  desert,  God's  great 
purifying  laboratory,  where,  after  being  com 
pletely  purified,  they  are  sent  over  the  mountains, 
there  to  gather  their  unseen  but  never-the-less 
beneficent  and  healthful  burden  of  sweet  balsams 
and  odors  from  the  trees,  shrubs  and  blossoms 
that  glorify  their  slopes  and  summits. 

For  awhile  after  their  arrival  at  Pala  they  dwelt 
in  tents,  and  then  occurred  one  of  those  inexplain- 
able  and  inexcusable  pieces  of  folly  that  fills  the 

52 


heart  of  an  intelligent  man  with  contempt  and 
almost  with  despa  r.  Cold  weather  was  coming 
on.  The  Indians  must  be  housed  erelong.  One 
would  have  thought  the  sensible  and  obvious 
thing  to  do  would  have  been  to  engage  the  un 
occupied  Indians — for,  of  course,  none  of  them  as 
yet  had  a  thing  to  do — either  to  make  adobe  brick 
and  build  their  houses  of  them,  or  to  buy  lumber 
for  the  purpose  from  the  nearest  place  of  supply. 
Instead  of  that  what  was  done  by  the  dunder- 
headed  officials  at  Washington?  Even  as  I  write 
it  seems  so  incredible  that  I  can  scarce  believe  it. 
These  incompetent  men  purchased,  in  New  York, 
fifty  flimsy,  rickety,  insecure,  wretched  "portable" 
houses,  sent  them  by  freight,  and  ordered  them  put 
up  as  the  permanent  homes  of  these  unfortunate 
exiles.  The  amount  of  money  expended  in  these 
contemptible  pretences  for  houses,  and  the  freight 
paid  on  them  from  the  East,  would  have  erected 
permanent  buildings  and  at  the  same  time  have 
provided  paying  occupation  for  the  Indians  dur 
ing  their  erection.  Official  stupidity  seldom  mani 
fested  itself  more  clearly  than  in  this  instance. 

Commenting  upon  the  matter  the  government's 
own  pecial  agent  reported: 

It  was  nearly  six  months  before  the  Indians  got  into  the 
houses.  The  expense  was  double  what  wooden  cabins  built 
on  the  spot  would  have  been,  and  about  four  times  the  cost 
of  adobes.  .  .  .  The  houses  are  neither  dust-proof,  wind- 
proof,  nor  water-proof,  and  are  far  inferior  to  the  despised 
adobes. 

But  the  Indians  made  the  best  of  them,  and  have 
gradually  improved,  or  replaced  them  with  some 
thing  better.  Then  the  water  question  arose. 
There  was  not  enough  for  their  needs.  Eighteen 

53 


thousand  dollars  was  first  expended,  and  then  more 
was  called  for.  At  last,  in  May,  1913,  the  new 
irrigation  system  was  completed,  and  a  grand  fiesta 
was  held  to  celebrate  the  opening. 

The  first  teacher  of  the  Palatinguas  when  they 
were  removed  to  Pala  was  Mrs.  Josephine  H. 
Babbitt,  who  for  many  years  had  been  their  trusted 
friend  at  Warner's  Ranch.  But  in  those  trying 
early  days  when  nerves  were  frayed,  dispositions 
frazzled,  and  passions  easily  aroused,  her  earnest 
and  determined  efforts  to  secure  for  her  wards  as 
great  a  meed  of  justice  as  possible  rendered  her 
persona  non  grata  to  some  whose  influence  was 
powerful  enough  to  secure  her  removal. 

But  it  was  not  long  before  even  this  misfortune 
was  made  to  work  out  for  the  good  of  the  Indians. 
Miss  Ora  Salmons,  who  was  a  teacher  of  one  of  the 
near-by  Indian  schools,  was  appointed,  and  this 
year  of  our  Lord,  sees  her  close  her  twenty-eighth 
year  of  faithful  and  happy  service  among  her 
dusky  wards,  many  of  which  have  been  spent  here 
at  Pala.  With  heart,  mind  and  body  attuned 
to  her  work  she  has  truthfully  and  poetically  been 
termed  "the  little  mother  of  the  Indians."  Radiat 
ing  brightness,  sunshine,  sympathy  and  love  for 
her  pupils,  old  and  young,  she  is  strengthened  in 
her  daily  task  by  the  assurance  that  she  is  making 
their  life  easier  and  happier,  removing  some  of  the 
obstacles  to  their  progress,  and  adding  factors  of 
strength  and  self-reliance  to  their  characters. 


CHAPTER  X. 

The  Old  and  New  Acqueducts. 


In  Southern  California  water  is  an  essential 
element  in  nearly  all  agricultural  and  horticultural 
development.  In  their  own  primitive  fashion  the 
Indians  irrigated  the  lands  long  prior  to  the  coming 
of  the  Spaniards.  When  Padre  Peyri,  however, 
came  to  Pala,  his  far-seeing  eye  at  once  noted  its 
possibilities,  and  he  set  about  bringing  water  from 
the  headwaters  of  the  river.  He  laid  a  line  for 
a  ditch  from  the  mountains  to  the  mission  lands  so 
accurately  and  with  such  consummate  skill  that  it 
is  as  much  the  marvel  of  modern  irrigation  engineers 
as  is  the  architecture  of  the  Missions  of  the  modern 
architect. 

Where  necessary  a  ditch  was  built,  and  on  the 
other  hand  where  the  natural  course  was  in  the 
proper  line  this  was  followed,  to  be  replaced  again 
with  ditches  when  necessary.  So  long  as  Peyri 
remained  the  ditch  was  in  constant  use,  but  after 
he  left  in  1832  it  began  to  decline,  and  when  his 
successor,  Zalvidea,  died,  in  1846,  it  fell  into 
disuse  and  soon  became  choked  up,  ruined,  and 
useless. 

When  the  Palatinguas  came,  some  work  in  the 
bringing  of  water  was  done  on  their  behalf,  but 
it  was  not  adequate.  While  it  supplied  the  neces 
sary  water  for  their  lands  on  the  south  side  of  the 
river,  they  also  needed  it  on  the  north  side.  So 

55 


the  Indian  Department  was  again  appealed  to, 
the  appropriation  made,  and,  in  due  time,  the  work 
begun.  The  government  engineers  found  that 
the  line  of  old  ditch  could  not  be  improved  upon, 
so  the  Indians  were  engaged  to  do  the  major  part 
of  the  work,  as  they  had  been  in  the  days  of  Peyri, 
and  on  the  occasion  of  its  completion  the  event 
was  deemed  of  such  importance  that  the  Indians 
decided  to  hold  a  great  fiesta. 

After  the  decline  of  the  Mission  establishments 
the  annual  fiestas  of  the  Indians  became  mere  pre 
texts  for  debauchery,  gambling,  and  the  per 
formance  of  their  ancient  dances.  But  of  late 
years  strenuous  efforts  have  been  made  to  prohibit 
the  sale  of  liquor  to  the  Indians,  and  the  govern 
ment  also  has  abolished  gambling.  The  influence 
of  Father  Doyle  and  Agent  Runke  have  been  great 
in  changing  the  character  of  the  fiesta,  and  on  this 
occasion  the  event  was  one  of  decorum,  dignity, 
and  reverent  worship,  as  well  as  dancing,  playing 
of  games,  and  pleasure. 

Not  only  was  the  securing  of  a  permanent  supply 
of  water  a  cause  of  rejoicing.  The  Indians  were 
made  happy  by  the  announcement  that,  at  last, 
the  government  had  recognized  their  claims  to  the 
land  which  they  had  been  tilling  the  past  ten  years 
and  granted  them  their  patent.  The  announce 
ment  was  made  by  Walter  Runke,  superintendent 
of  the  reservation,  just  after  the  water  was  turned 
into  the  new  ditch. 

Granting  them  their  patent  means  that  each 
Indian,  whether  babe,  child,  man  or  woman  is 
given  title  to  one  and  three-quarters  acres  of  ir 
rigated  land  and  six  acres  of  dry  land.  Much  of 
this  dry  land  has  been  put  under  irrigation  since 

56 


the  first  allotment.  In  addition,  the  head  of  each 
family  is  given  two  lots,  one  for  his  house  and  one 
for  his  stable.  There  is,  however,  a  stipulation 
in  the  grant  which  forbids  an  Indian's  deeding  his 
newly  acquired  property  away  for  the  next  twenty- 
five  years. 

I  have  explained  already  how  bitter  the  Palatin- 
guas  were  when  removed  from  Warner's  Ranch. 
They  felt  that,  as  they  had  had  no  security  in  the 
possession  of  their  homes  and  lands  at  Warner's 
Ranch,  so  would  it  be  at  Pala.  They  could  be 
moved  about,  they  said,  at  the  whim  of  Washington, 
without  a  guarantee  of  a  final  competency  for  them 
selves  or  their  children.  But  now  they  have  been 
rewarded  for  their  labor  and  patience  with  land 
in  one  of  the  most  fertile  and  beautiful  valleys 
of  Southern  California  and  under  the  shadow  of 
the  cross  their  beloved  padre  raised  one  hundred 
years  ago. 

The  fiesta  was  held  in  due  time.  Eight  members 
of  the  Franciscan  Order  from  San  Luis  Rey 
were  invited  to  take  an  important  part  in  the 
ceremonies. 

A  writer  in  the  San  Diego  Union  shows  how 
tenaciously  the  Indians  cling  to  the  ceremonies 
of  the  past.  He  says: 

The  opening  of  the  government's  new  irrigation  ditch  was 
preceded  the  night  before  by  the  same  ceremony  of  praise  and 
thanksgiving  that  the  Indians  used  to  hold  before  ever  a  padre 
raised  a  cross  among  them.  In  a  rectangular  enclosure  made 
of  green  willows  they  assembled  about  a  log  fire.  They  seated 
themselves  in  a  circle  just  beyond  the  line  of  fading  light,  their 
swarthy  faces  being  discernible  only  as  a  dim  streak  in  the 
dark;  but  before  the  fire,  his  rough  and  seamed  face  illuminat 
ed  by  the  unsteady  flames  which  leaped,  as  now  and  then  he 
picked  at  a  brand,  and  revealed  his  audience  as  motionless 

57 


as  though  chiseled  out  of  lava,  stood  the  aged  Cecelio  Chup- 
rosa.  His  hands  were  clasped  behind  his  back  and  his  head 
bowed.  At  long  intervals,  he  spoke  briefly  in  his  native 
tongue,  his  soft  gutterals  coming  so  slowly  that  one  could 
count  the  vowels.  A  drawn-out  low,  wierd  monotone  was 
the  only  response  from  that  rock-like  circle  just  beyond  the 
light.  Now  and  then  some  old  woman  emerged  from  the 
darkness  and  danced  beside  the  burning  logs  while  she  chanted 
some  wild  incantation  and  was  lost  again  in  that  stoic,  stolid, 
silent  circle. 

Finally  two  padres  appeared  on  the  scene.  They  said 
nothing,  but  the  Indians  soon  slunk  away.  The  padres 
do  not  approve  of  the  rites  of  pagan  days,  and  they  love  their 
padres. 

Still  amid  the  weird  savagery  of  that  scene,  there  were 
many  evidences  of  civilization.  The  old  men  and  women 
wore  cowhide  boots  and  shoes  which  covered  their  feet  with 
corns.  Instead  of  the  peace-pipe,  the  glow  of  the  cigarette 
dawned  and  died  everywhere  through  the  stoic  night.  Oil- 
filled  lanterns  took  the  place  of  the  starlight  the  Indians 
formerly  used  to  find  their  way  home  by,  and  one  old  wab 
bling  woman  wheeled  her  grand-papoose  to  the  meeting  in 
the  latest  style  of  perambulator. 

Chuprosa  is  96  years  old  and  has  not  a  gray  hair  on  his 
head.  He  has  worn  his  war  paint,  been  on  the  warpath,  and 
fought  in  all  the  tribe's  battles  from  his  youth  up.  He  is 
particularly  proud  of  the  valor  he  displayed  in  the  battle 
of  Alamitos,  which  occurred  sixty-six  years  ago. 

Now  Chuprosa  is  a  baseball  fan.  He  roots  at  all  the  games 
between  the  teams  of  his  and  neighboring  reservations. 
Recently  he  rode  forty  miles  on  horseback  to  Warner's  Ranch 
to  see  a  game  and  when  he  returned  he  was  so  stiff  that  he  had 
to  be  lifted  out  of  the  saddle,  but  he  rubbed  his  aching  legs  a 
little  and  laughed,  for  he  had  rooted  his  favorite  team  to 
victory. 

Among  the  Franciscan  monks  who  came  from  San  Luis 
Rey  to  attend  the  Pala  fiesta  was  another  old  battler  who  had 
fought  through  two  wars  and  won  two  medals  for  valor  from 
his  country.  One  of  them  is  the  far-famed  and  much  coveted 
iron-cross  which  German  royalty  and  the  Kaiser  himself 
salute  whenever  it  is  seen  on  the  breast  of  a  veteran.  But 
Father  Damian, — and  that  is  his  only  name  in  the  cloister 
where  he  has  lived  now  for  thirty-eight  years, — threw  these 

58 


H 


In    the   Pala  Graveyard. 


Wi 


Pala  Basket  Makers  at  Work. 


honors  into  the  sea  and  with  head  bowed  he  appeared  one 
day  at  the  door  of  a  monastery  and  asked  that  he  might 
henceforth  follow  only  the  standard  of  the  cross. 

He  was  given  a  brown  robe  with  a  cowl  and  a  pair  of  sandals 
for  his  feet,  and  the  hero  of  wars  which  Germany  waged 
against  Austria  and  France,  lost  even  his  name  and,  becoming 
a  carpenter,  gave  his  life  in  building  schools  and  churches. 

Father  Damian  and  Chuprosa  met  for  the  first  time  at  the 
Pala  fiesta.  The  monk  could  speak  no  Spanish  and  the  Indian 
no  German,  but  they  soon  became  interested  in  each  other 
when,  through  an  interpreter,  each  told  of  the  battles  the 
other  had  fought.  Although  seventy-two  years  old,  the 
father  is  still  rugged  except  that  he  feels  the  effect  of  cholera 
which  attacked  his  regiment  in  the  war  with  Austria.  "One 
morning,"  he  said,  "one  hundred  in  my  regiment  alone  re 
mained  on  the  ground  when  the  bugle  called  us.  They  had 
died  overnight  of  cholera." 

The  morning  of  the  fiesta  dawned  bright  and 
clear.  Every  member  of  the  tribe  was  there  in  his 
or  her  best.  The  ceremonies  opened  by  a  solemn 
high  mass  conducted  by  Father  Doyle,  and  assisted 
by  the  Franciscan  Fathers  from  San  Luis  Rey. 

Then  a  grand  parade  was  held,  everyone  march 
ing  happily  to  the  head  of  the  ditch.  There  Father 
Peter  Walliseheck,  Superior  of  the  San  Luis  Rey 
house,  blessed  the  water  which  poured  itself  for 
the  first  time  over  the  Indians'  lands  since  the  old 
ditch  crumbled  away,  and  as  he  did  so  he  stood  on 
the  very  spot  where  Padre  Peyri  stood  when, 
with  his  Indians,  they  said  a  prayer  of  thanks 
giving  over  the  successful  completion  of  their 
labors,  a  century  previously. 

The  rest  of  the  day  was  then  spent  in  the  pleas 
ures  of  the  table  mainly  provided  by  an  old-fashioned 
barbecue,  a  baseball  game  and  the  inevitable  game 
of  peon. 


59 


CHAPTER  XI. 

The  Palas  as  Farmers 


To  many  white  people  an  Indian  is  always  what 
they  conceive  all  Indians  ever  have  been — wild, 
uncultivated,  useless  savages.  Never  was  idea 
more  mistaken  and  cruelly  ignorant.  At  Pala 
there  is  not  an  Indian  on  the  free  ration  list.  The 
putting  of  water  upon  their  lands  has  transformed 
them  from  the  crushed,  disheartened,  half-starved 
and  almost  despondent  people  they  were  thirteen 
years  ago,  after  their  removal  from  their  beloved 
Palatingua,  into  an  industrious,  energetic,  in 
dependent,  self-supporting  and  self-respecting  tribe. 

The  olive  trees  planted  by  Padre  Peyri  are  tend 
erly  cared  for  and  are  again  in  full  bearing.  As 
one  now  approaches  Pala  from  either  Oceanside 
or  Agua  Tibia  he  gazes  upon  a  valley  smiling  in 
its  dress  of  living  green.  Fields  of  alfalfa,  corn, 
wheat,  barley,  beans,  and  chilis  stretch  out  on 
every  hand,  relieved  by  fine  orchards  of  apricots, 
peaches  and  olives. 

For  years  the  Indians  did  not  take  kindly  to 
government  farmers.  Most  of  these  men  were  too 
theoretical.  For  the  past  two  years,  however, 
Mr.  A.  T.  Hammock,  government  farmer  at  Pala, 
has  shown  by  example  and  sympathetic  work  the 
benefits  of  intensive  farming.  His  practical  les 
sons  have  brought  many  dollars  into  the  pockets 

60 


not  only  of  the  Palatinguas,  but  also  of  the  other 
Mission  Indians  close  to  the  border  of  the  Pala 
reservation. 

Recently  the  raising  of  late  tomatoes  for  the 
Eastern  market  was  tried  with  much  success. 

Added  production  enables  the  Indians  to  build 
better  homes.  Some  of  them  have  done  this,  as 
is  shown  in  one  of  the  illustrations,  and  by  the 
time  the  drainage  system  contemplated  by  the 
government  is  in  place  many  of  the  forlorn  gift 
houses,  erected  when  they  first  came  to  Pala,  will 
be  replaced  by  small  but  neat  cottages. 

The  Palas  are  also  successful  stock  raisers  and 
have  many  head  of  cattle  grazing  on  the  wild 
lands  of  their  reservation.  They  are  also  proud 
of  their  horses. 

As  a  further  evidence  of  progress  they  have 
now  substituted  for  their  old  fiesta  a  modern 
agricultural  fair. 

In  October,  of  1915,  they  held  their  annual 
gathering  and,  after  they  had  erected  their  square 
of  ramadas,  or  houses  of  tree  branches,  they  built 
one  of  finished  lumber  to  contain  an  agricultural 
exhibit  which  consisted  not  only  of  farm  products, 
but  also  preserved  fruit,  pastry,  basketry,  art  lace 
and  pottery. 

Over  a  thousand  dollars'  worth  of  baskets  and 
nearly  a  thousand  dollars'  worth  of  fine  hand  lace 
were  on  exhibition.  Farmers  from  a  distant 
county  were  chosen  as  judges  and  with  pleased 
astonishment  remarked  that  the  exhibition  as  a 
whole  would  have  taken  a  prize  at  any  county  fair. 

Thus  living  with  congenial  administrators  in  a 
climate  softer  even  than  the  city  of  San  Diego,  for 
the  breezes  of  the  Palomar  mountains  mingle  with 

61 


those  of  the  Pacific  in  the  trees  which  shade 
their  humble  homes;  having  at  the  end  of  the 
principal  street  of  the  village  a  hedged  plaza,  filled 
with  blooming  flowers  all  the  year,  making  a  frame 
for  the  old  Mission  chapel,  which  stands  restored 
as  the  best  preserved  of  the  Mission  chapels,  a 
picture  place  of  San  Diego  county  and  their  place 
of  worship;  not  wealthy,  but  having  sufficient  for 
the  necessities  and  some  of  the  comforts  of  life; 
it  is  little  wonder  that  the  Indian  of  Pala  pursues 
the  even  tenor  of  his  way,  happy  and  without  a 
care  for  the  future. 


62 


CHAPTER  XII. 

With  the  Pala  Basket  Makers. 


The  art  instincts  of  primitive  people  naturally 
were  exceedingly  limited  in  expression.  Their  ig 
norance  of  tools  not  only  restricted  their  oppor 
tunities  for  the  development  of  handicraft  ability, 
but  also  deprived  them  of  many  materials  they 
otherwise  might  have  used.  Hence  whenever 
an  outlet  was  discovered  for  their  artistic  tendencies 
they  were  impelled  to  focus  upon  it  in  a  remark 
able  degree.  With  few  tools,  limited  scope  of 
materials,  and  next  to  no  incitement  to  higher 
endeavor  as  the  result  of  contact  with  other 
peoples,  they  yet  developed  several  arts  to  a  higher 
degree  than  has  ever  yet  been  attained  by  the 
white  race.  One  of  the  chief  of  these  artistic 
industries  was  the  making  of  baskets. 

Look  at  one  of  these  exquisite  pieces  of  aboriginal 
workmanship  and  you  will  be  astonished  at  the 
perfection  of  its  form,  its  marvelous  symmetry,  the 
evenness  of  its  weave,  the  suitability  of  the  material 
of  which  it  is  made,  its  remarkable  adaptability  to 
the  use  for  which  it  is  intended,  the  rare  and  deli 
cate  harmon'ousness  of  its  colors,  and  the  artistic 
conception  of  its  design.  These  qualities  all 
presuppose  pure  aboriginal  work,  for  directly  the 
Indian  begins  to  yield  to  the  dictation  of  the  supe 
rior  (!)  race,  she  proceeds  to  make  baskets  of  hid 
es 


ecus   and  inartistic   shape,   abominable   combina 
tions  of  color,  and  generally  senseless  designs. 

Let  us  watch  these  basket-makers  at  work,  as  we 
find  them  at  Pala  today.  The  weaver  must  first 
secure  the  materials.  For  the  filling  of  the  inner  coil 
she  gathers  a  quantity  of  a  wild  grass,  or  broom  corn, 
the  stems  of  which  perfectly  fulfil  the  purpose. 
The  wrapping  splints  are  made  of  three  or  four 
products  of  the  vegetable  kingdom.  The  white 
splints  are  secured  from  willows  which  are  peeled 
and  then  split  and  torn  apart  so  as  to  make  the 
desired  size.  The  thinness  and  pliability  of  the 
splint  is  determined  by  scraping  off  as  much  as  is 
needed  of  the  inside.  A  black  splint  is  found 
in  the  cuticle  of  the  martynia,  or  cat's  claw,  which 
grows  profusely  on  the  hill-sides.  Sometimes, 
however,  the  white  willow  splints  are  soaked  in 
hot  sulphur  water  for  several  days,  and  this  black 
ens  them.  This  water  is  secured  from  one  of  the 
hot  springs  which  are  found  all  over  Southern 
California.  The  rare  and  delicate  shades  of  brown 
in  the  splints  used  by  the  Pala  Indians  are  gained 
from  the  root  of  the  tule.  These  roots  are  dug 
out  of  the  mud  of  marshy  places  and  vary  in  shade, 
from  the  most  delicate  creamy-brown  to  the  deep 
est  chestnut.  Carefully  introduced  into  a  basket 
they  make  harmonies  in  color  that  fairly  thrill  the 
senses  with  delight.  Now  and  again  an  added 
note  of  color  is  found  in  the  red  of  the  red-bud, 
which,  when  gathered  at  the  proper  time,  gives 
a  sturdy  red,  not  too  vivid  or  brilliant,  but  that 
harmonizes  perfectly  with  the  white,  black  and 
brown.  As  a  rule  these  are  the  only  colors  used 
by  the  older  and  more  artistic  of  the  Pala  weavers. 
Now  and  again,  a  smart  youngster,  trained  at  the 

64 


white  man's  school,  will  come  back  with  cor 
rupted  ideas  of  color  value,  and  will  flippantly 
make  gorgeously  colored  splints  with  a  few  pack 
ages  of  the  aniline  dyes  that,  to  the  older  weavers, 
are  simply  accursed.  But  even  the  most  foolish 
and  least  discerning  of  the  white  purchasers  of 
baskets  made  of  these  degraded  colors  cannot 
fail,  in  time,  to  learn  how  hideous  they  are  when 
compared  with  the  natural,  normal  and  artistic 
work  of  the  more  conservative  of  the  weavers. 

With  her  materials  duly  prepared  the  weaver 
is  now  ready  to  go  to  work.  What  drawing  has 
she  to  represent  the  shape  of  her  basket;  what  com 
plicated  plan  of  the  design  she  intends  to  incor 
porate  in  it?  How  much  thought  has  she  given 
to  these  two  important  details?  Where  does  she 
get  them  from?  What  art  books  does  she  con 
sult?  She  cannot  go  down  to  the  art  or  depart 
ment  store  and  purchase  Design  No.  48b,  or  219f, 
and  her  religion,  if  she  be  a  good  woman  (that  is, 
good  from  the  Indian,  not  the  white  man  or 
Christian  standpoint),  will  not  allow  her  to  copy 
either  one  of  her  own  or  another  weaver's  form  or 
design.  She,  therefore,  is  left  to  the  one  resort 
of  the  true  artist.  She  must  create  her  work  from 
Nature,  out  of  her  own  observations  and  reflec 
tions.  Thus  patterning  after  Nature  the  shapes 
of  her  baskets  are  always  perfect,  always  un- 
criticizable.  There  is  nothing  fantastic,  wild,  or 
crazy  about  them,  as  we  often  find  in  the  original 
creations  of  the  white  race.  They  are  patterned 
after  the  Master  Artist's  work,  and  therefore  are 
beyond  criticism. 

But  who  can  tell  the  hours  of  patient  and  careful 
observation,  the  thought,  the  reflection,  put  upon 

65 


these  shapes  and  designs.  The  busy  little  brain 
behind  those  dark-brown  eyes;  the  creative  imagi 
nation  that  sees,  that  vizualizes  in  the  mind  and 
can  judge  of  its  appearance  when  objectified, 
must  be  developed  to  a  high  degree  to  permit  the 
use  of  such  intricate,  complicated  and  complex 
designs  as  are  often  found.  There  are  no  drawings 
made,  no  pencil  and  paper  used,  not  even  a  sketch 
in  the  sand  as  some  guessers  would  have  the  cred 
ulous  believe.  Everything  is  seen  and  worked 
out  mentally,  and  with  nothing  but  the  mental 
image  before  her,  the  artist  goes  to  work. 

Seated  in  as  easy  a  posture  as  she  can  find  out- 
of-doors  or  in,  her  splints  around  her  in  vessels  of 
water  (the  water  for  keeping  them  pliant),  and  an 
adequate  supply  of  the  broom-corn,  or  grass-stem, 
filling  at  hand,  she  rapidly  makes  the  coiled 
button  that  is  the  center,  the  starting  point  of 
her  basket.  Her  awl  is  the  thigh-bone  of  a  rabbit, 
unless  she  has  yielded  so  far  to  the  pressure  of 
civilization  as  to  use  a  steel  awl  secured  at  the 
trader's  store  for  the  purpose.  Stitch  by  stitch 
the  coil  grows,  each  one  sewed,  by  making  a  hole 
with  the  awl  through  the  coil  already  made,  to  that 
coil.  When  the  time  comes  for  the  introduction 
of  the  colored  splint,  she  works  on  as  certainly, 
surely  and  deftly  as  before.  There  is  no  hesitation. 
All  is  mapped  out,  the  stitches  counted,  long  before, 
and  though  to  the  outsider  there  is  no  possible 
resemblance  descernible  between  what  she  is 
doing  with  anything  known  in  the  heavens  above, 
the  earth  beneath,  or  the  waters  under  the  earth, 
the  aboriginal  weaver  goes  on  with  perfect  confi 
dence,  seeing  clearly  the  completed  and  artistic 
product  of  her  brain  and  fingers, 

66 


O  OJ 


03 


Ul 


Two  Pala  Inrlian   Maidens. 


Pala  Boys  at  Work  on   the   Farm. 


And  how  wonderfully  those  fingers  handle  the 
splints.  No  white  woman  has  ever  surpassed,  in 
digital  dexterity,  these  native  Indians.  Do  you 
wonder?  Watch  this  weaver  day  after  day  as  her 
basket  grows.  A  week,  two,  three,  a  month,  two, 
three  months  pass  by,  and  the  basket  is  not  yet 
finished.  Time  as  well  as  creative  skill  and  digital 
dexterity  are  required  to  make  a  basket,  and  it  is 
no  uncommon  thing  to  find  three,  four  and  even 
five  or  six  months  consumed  before  the  basket  is 
done,  and  the  weaver's  heart  is  secretly  rejoiced 
by  the  beauty  of  the  work. 

Is  it  surprising  that  the  Indian  often  refuses  to 
show,  even  when  she  knows  she  can  make  a  sale, 
the  latest  product  of  her  skill?  The  work  is  the 
joy  of  her  heart;  she  has  met  the  true  test  of  the 
artist — she  loves  her  work  and,  therefore,  joys  in 
it — how  can  she  sell  it?  So  when  you  ask  her  if 
she  has  a  basket  to  sell  she  shakes  her  head,  and 
when,  days  or  weeks  later,  pressed  by  a  real  or 
fancied  necessity,  she  brings  it  out  and  offers  it 
for  sale,  you  inwardly  comment — perhaps  openly — 
upon  the  untruthfulness  of  the  Indian,  when,  in 
reality,  she  meant  to  the  full  her  negative  as  to 
whether  she  had  a  basket  to  sell. 

There  are  many  skilful  and  accomplished  basket 
weavers  at  Pala,  who  genuinely  love  their  work. 
They  are  preserving  for  a  prejudiced  portion  of 
the  white  race,  proofs  of  an  artistic  skill  pos 
sessed  for  centuries  by  this  despised  aboriginal 
race,  and,  at  the  same  time,  give  delight,  pleas 
ure,  joy  and  kindlier  feelings  to  those  of  the  white 
race  who  feel  there  is  a  fundamental  truth 
enunciated  in  the  doctrines  of  the  universal  Father 
hood  of  God,  and  the  Brotherhood  of  Man. 

67 


CHAPTER  IX. 

Lace  and  Pottery  Makers. 


In  the  preceding  chapter  I  have  presented,  in  a 
broad  and  casual  manner,  the  work  of  the  Pala 
basket-makers.  They  are  not  confined,  however, 
to  this  as  their  only  artistic  industry.  They 
engage  in  other  work  that  is  both  beautiful  and 
useful.  For  centuries  they  have  been  pottery 
makers,  though,  as  far  as  I  can  learn,  they  have 
never  learned  to  decorate  their  ware  with  the 
artistic,  quaint,  and  symbolic  designs  used  by  the 
Zunis,  Acomese,  Hopis  and  other  Pueblo  Indians 
of  Arizona  and  New  Mexico,  or  that  might  have 
been  suggested  by  the  designs  on  their  own 
basketry. 

The  shapes  of  their  pottery  in  the  main  are 
simple  and  few,  but,  when  made  by  skilful  hands, 
are  beautiful  and  pleasing.  They  make  saucers, 
bowls,  jars  and  ollas.  Clay  is  handled  practically 
in  the  same  way  as  the  materials  of  basketry.  After 
the  clay  is  well  washed,  puddled,  and  softened, 
it  is  rolled  into  a  rope-like  length.  After  the  center 
is  moulded  by  the  thumbs  and  fingers  of  the  pot 
ter,  on  a  small  basket  base  which  she  holds  in  her 
lap,  the  clay  rope  is  coiled  so  as  to  build  up  the 
pot  to  the  desired  size.  As  each  coil  is  added,  it  is 
smoothed  down  with  the  fingers  and  a  small 
spatula  of  bone,  pottery  or  dried  gourd  skin,  the 
shape  being  made  and  maintained  by  constant 

68 


manipulation.  When  completed  it  is  either  dried 
in  the  sun,  or  baked  over  a  fire  made  of  dried  cow 
or  burro  dung,  which  does  not  get  so  hot  as  to 
crack  the  ware,  or  give  out  a  smoke  to  blacken  it. 

In  the  dressing  of  skins,  and  making  of  rabbit- 
skin  blankets,  the  older  Indians  used  to  be  great 
adepts,  but  modern  materials  have  taken  away 
the  necessity  for  these  things. 

Before  the  Palatinguas  were  removed  from 
Warner's  Ranch  to  Pala,  one  of  them,  gifted  with 
the  white  man's  business  sense,  and  with  the 
creative  or  inventive  faculty,  started  an  industry 
which  he  soon  made  very  profitable.  Every 
traveler  over  the  uncultivated  and  desert  area  of 
Southern  California  has  been  struck  with  the  im 
mense  number  of  yuccas,  Spanish  daggers,  that 
seemed  to  spring  up  spontaneously  on  every  hand. 
This  keen-brained  Indian,  Jose  Juan  Owlinguwush, 
saw  these,  and  wiser  than  some  of  his  smart  white 
brothers,  determined  to  put  them  to  practical 
and  profitable  use.  He  had  the  bayonets  gathered 
by  the  hundreds,  the  thousands.  Then  he  had 
them  beaten,  flailed,  until  the  fibres  were  all  sepa 
rated  one  from  another.  The  outer  skins  were 
thrown  away,  but  the  inner  fibres  were  taken  and 
cured.  Then,  on  one  of  the  most  primitive  spin 
ning-wheels  ever  designed,  and  worked  by  a  smiling 
school-girl,  who  passed  a  strap  over  a  square 
portion  of  a  spindle,  at  the  end  of  which  was  a 
hook,  so  as  to  make  it  revolve  at  a  high  degree  of 
speed,  the  fiber  was  spun  into  rope.  To  the  hook 
the  yucca  fibre  was  attached,  and  as  the  spindle 
revolved  the  hook  twisted  the  fibre  into  cord. 
The  spinner,  with  an  apron  full  of  the  fibre, 
walked  backwards,  away  from  the  revolving 

69 


hook,  feeding  out  the  fibre  as  required  and 
seeing  it  was  of  the  needed  thickness.  Some 
of  the  rope  or  cord  thus  made  was  dyed  a  pleasing 
brown  color,  and  then  was  woven  on  a  loom,  as 
primitive  as  was  the  spinning-wheel,  into  door 
mats,  which  I  used,  with  great  satisfaction,  for 
several  years. 

Soon  after  the  Palatinguas  were  settled  at  Pala, 
the  Sybil  Carter  Association  of  New  York  intro 
duced  to  them,  with  the  full  consent  of  the  govern 
ment  officials,  the  art  of  Spanish  lace-making.  In 
a  recent  newspaper  article  it  is  thus  lauded: 
"Ancient  craft  [Basket-making]  of  Pala  Indians 
Gives  Place  to  More  Artistic  Handiwork." 
This  is  a  very  absurd  statement,  for  wherein  is  the 
work  of  lace-making  more  artistic  than  basket- 
making.  In  the  article  that  follows  our  newspaper 
friend  tells  us  candidly  that  the  creative  spirit  is 
still  alive  in  the  manufacture  of  basketry: 

They  use  the  natural  grasses  and  no  artificial  coloring.  No 
two  baskets  are  alike,  though  the  mountain,  lightning  flash, 
star,  tree,  oak-leaf,  and  snake  designs  are  most  common. 

The  italics  are  mine.  Our  writer  then  goes  on 
to  say  of  the  lace-making: 

The  little  ten-year  old  school-child  and  the  grandmother 
now  sit  side  by  side  weaving  the  intricate  figures  with  deft 
hands  and  each  receives  fair  compensation  for  the  finished 
product.  It  takes  sharp  eyes  and  supple  fingers  to  produce 
this  lace,  but  no  originality,  for  the  Venetian  point,  Honiton, 
Torchon,  Brussels,  Cluny,  Milano,  Roman  Cut- Work  and 
Fillet  patterns  are  supplied  by  the  government  teacher,  Mrs. 
Edla  Osterberg. 

Again  the  italics  are  mine.  There  is  no  com 
parison  in  the  art  work  of  basketry  and  that  of 
lace-making,  yet  it  is  a  good  thing  the  latter  has 
been  introduced.  It  brings  these  poor  people 

70 


money  easier  and  quicker  than  basket-making, 
and,  as  they  must  earn  to  live,  it  aids  them  in  the 
struggle  for  existence. 

In  the  lace  work-room,  the  last  time  I  was  there, 
thirty-nine  weavers  in  all,  varying  from  bright- 
eyed  children  of  seven  years,  to  aged  grand 
mothers,  were  intently  engaged  upon  the  delicate 
work.  The  bobbins  were  being  twisted  and  whirled 
with  incredible  rapidity  and  sureness,  in  the  cases 
of  the  most  expert,  and  all  were  as  interested  as 
could  possibly  be. 


71 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

The  Religious  and  Social  Life  of  the  Palas. 


It  would  require  many  pages  of  this  little  book 
even  to  suggest  the  various  rites,  ceremonies  and 
ideas  connected  with  the  ancient  religion  of  the 
Palas.  It  was  a  strange  mixture  of  Nature  worship, 
superstition,  and  apparently  meaningless  rites, 
all  of  which,  however,  clearly  revealed  the  child 
like  worship  of  their  minds.  In  the  earliest  days 
their  religious  leaders  gained  their  power  by  fasting 
and  solitude.  Away  in  the  desert,  or  on  the 
mountain  heights,  resolutely  abstaining  from  all 
food,  they  awaited  the  coming  of  their  spirit 
guides,  and  then,  armed  with  the  assurance  of 
direct  supernatural  control,  they  assumed  the  heal 
ing  of  the  sick  and  the  general  direction  of  the 
affairs  of  the  tribe. 

Then,  later,  this  simple  method  was  changed. 
The  neophytes  sought  visions  by  drinking  a  de 
coction  made  from  the  jimpson  weed — toloache — 
and  though  the  older  and  purer-minded  men 
condemned  this  method  it  was  gaining  great  hold 
upon  them  when  the  Franciscan  Missionaries  came 
a  century  or  so  ago. 

Even  now  some  of  their  ceremonies  at  the  period 
of  adolescence,  especially  of  girls,  are  still  carried 
on.  One  of  these  consists  of  digging  a  pit,  making 

72 


it  hot  with  burning  wood  coals,  and  then  "roasting" 
the  maiden  therein,  supposedly  for  her  physical 
good. 

I  have  also  been  present  at  some  of  their  ancient 
dances  which  are  still  performed  by  the  older  men 
and  women.  These  are  petitions  to  the  Powers 
that  control  nature  to  make  the  wild  berries,  seeds 
and  roots  grow  that  they  may  have  an  abundance 
of  food,  and  many  white  men  have  seen  portions 
of  the  eagle  and  other  dances,  the  significance  of 
which  they  had  no  conception  of.  Yet  all  of  these 
dances  had  their  origin  in  some  simple,  childlike 
idea  such  as  that  the  eagle,  flying  upwards  into 
the  very  eye  of  the  sun,  must  dwell  in  or  near 
the  abode  of  the  gods,  and  could  therefore  convey 
messages  to  them  from  the  dwellers  upon  Earth. 
This  is  the  secret  of  all  the  whisperings  and  tender 
words  addressed  to  the  eagle  before  it  is  either 
sent  on  its  flight  or  slain — for  in  either  case  it  soars 
to  the  empyrean.  These  words  are  messages  to 
be  delivered  to  the  gods  above,  and  are  petitions 
for  favors  desired,  blessings  they  long  for,  or 
punishments  they  wish  to  see  bestowed  upon  their 
enemies. 

But  when  the  padres  came  the  major  part  of  the 
ancestors  of  the  present-day  Palas  came  under 
their  influence.  They  were  soon  baptized  into  the 
fold  of  the  Catholic  Church.  The  fathers  were 
wise  in  their  tolerance  of  the  old  dances.  Wherein 
there  was  nothing  that  savored  of  bestiality, 
sensuality,  or  direct  demoralization,  they  raised  no 
objection,  hence  the  survival  of  these  ceremonies 
to  the  present  day.  But,  otherwise,  the  Indians 
became,  as  far  as  they  were  mentally  and  spiritually 
able,  good  sons  and  daughters  of  the  church. 

73 


Of  the  good  influence  these  good  men  had  over 
their  Indian  wards  there  can  be  no  question. 

A  true  shepherd  of  his  heathen  flock  was  Padre 
Peyri.  When  the  order  of  secularization  reached 
San  Luis  Rey  and  every  priest  was  compelled  to 
take  the  oath  of  allegiance  to  the  republic  of 
Mexico,  Peyri  refused  to  obey.  He  was  ordered 
out  of  the  country.  At  first  he  paid  no  attention 
to  the  command,  but  when,  finally,  his  superiors 
in  Mexico  authorized  his  obedience,  he  stole  away 
during  the  dead  of  night  in  January,  1832,  in  order 
to  save  himself  and  his  beloved  though  dusky 
wards  the  pain  of  parting.  It  is  said  that  when 
the  Indians  discovered  that  he  had  left  them  and 
was  on  his  way  to  San  Diego  in  order  to  take  ship 
for  Spain,  five  hundred  of  them  followed  him  with 
the  avowed  intention  of  trying  to  persuade  him  to 
return.  But  they  reached  the  bay  at  La  Playa 
just  as  his  ship  was  spreading  sail  and  putting  out 
to  sea.  A  plaintive  cry  rose  heavenward  while 
they  stood,  their  arms  outstretched  in  agonized 
pleading,  as  their  beloved  padre  gave  them  a  fare 
well  blessing  and  his  vessel  faded  away  in  the  blue 
haze  off  Point  Loma. 

The  last  resident  missionary  at  San  Luis  Rey 
was  Padre  Zalvidea,  who  died  early  in  1846. 

From  this  date  the  decline  of  the  Mission  was 
very  rapid.  In  1826,  the  Indian  population  was 
2,869  and  in  1846  it  scarcely  numbered  400.  After 
the  death  of  Padre  Zalvidea  the  poor  Indians  were 
like  a  flock  of  sheep  without  a  shepherd.  They 
dispersed  in  every  direction,  a  prey  of  poverty, 
disease,  and  death. 

The  Pala  outpost  shared  the  fate  of  the  mother 
mission,  San  Luis  Rey.  It  became  a  prey  to  the 

74 


0)0 


Ill 


i 


The  Interior  of  Pala  Chapel  After  the  Restoration. 


The  Ruins  of  the  Pala  Campanile,  After  Its  Fall  in 
January,  1916. 


elements  and  to  vandalism.  It  was  soon  a  ruin, 
uninhabited  and  unhabitable.  Even  the  water 
ditch,  not  being  kept  in  repair,  soon  became  use 
less.  Thus  matters  stood  until  the  United  States 
decided  to  remove  the  Indians  living  on  Warner's 
Ranch  to  Pala. 

Longevity  used  to  be  quite  common  among 
the  Pala  &nd  other  Indians.  To  attain  the  age  of 
a  hundred  years  was  nothing  uncommon,  and  some 
lived  to  be  a  hundred  and  fifty  and  even  more 
years  old.  A  short  time  ago  Leona  Ardilla  died 
at  Temecula,  which,  like  Pala,  used  to  be  a  part 
of  the  Mission  of  San  Luis  Rey.  Leona  was 
computed  to  be  fully  113  years  old.  She  well 
remembered  Padre  Peyri,  —  el  buena  padre,  she 
called  him, — and  could  tell  definitely  of  his  going 
away,  of  the  Indians  following  him  to  San  Diego, 
and  their  grief  that  they  could  not  bring  him  back. 
Often  have  I  heard  her  tell  the  story  of  the  eviction 
of  the  Indians  from  San  Pasqual,  as  described  in 
Ramona,  and  the  struggle  her  people  had  for  the 
necessities  of  life  after  that  disastrous  event. 

Of  gentle  disposition,  uncomplaining  regarding 
the  many  and  great  wrongs  done  her  people  by  the 
white  man,  she  lived  a  simple  Indian  life,  eating 
her  porridge  of  weewish,  the  bellota  of  the  Spanish, 
that  is,  acorn.  This  was  for  years  her  staple  food. 
She  ate  it  as  she  worked  on  her  baskets,  with  the 
prayers  on  her  lips  which  were  taught  her  by  Padre 
Peyri. 

Though  deaf  and  nearly  blind  for  over  20  years, 
Leona  sat  daily  in  the  open  with  some  boughs  at 
her  back,  the  primitive,  unroofed  break-wind 
described  as  the  only  habitation  of  many  of  the 
Indians  at  the  advent  of  the  spiritual  conquist adores 

75 


of  California.  There,  in  the  shade  of  her  kish,  she 
sat  and  wove  baskets.  A  few  days  before  she  died 
she  tried  to  finish  a  basket  which  had  been  begun 
over  a  month  before,  but  her  death  intervened  and 
it  remains  unfinished. 

A  year  hence,  when  the  Indians  hold  their 
memorial  dance  of  the  dead,  this  basket  will  be 
burned,  together  with  whatever  articles  of  clothing 
she  may  have  left. 

The  old  basket  maker's  only  living  child  was 
Michaela.  She  is  80  years  of  age,  and  was  at  her 
mother's  death-bed. 

After  their  removal  to  Pala  the  Indians  were 
too  stunned  to  pay  much  attention  to  anything 
except  their  own  troubles,  and  the  priest  that  was 
sent  to  them  neither  knew  or  understood  them. 
But  a  few  years  ago  the  Reverend  George  D.  Doyle 
was  appointed  as  their  pastor.  He  entered  into 
the  work  with  zeal,  sympathy  and  love,  and  in  a 
short  time  he  had  won  their  fullest  confidence  by 
his  tender  care  of  their  best  interests.  He 
deems  no  sacrifice  too  great  where  his  services 
are  needed.  He  says,  however,  that  beneficial 
service  would  have  been  rendered  impossible  save 
for  the  justice,  tolerance  and  helpfulness  on  the 
part  of  the  Indian  service  both  at  Washington  and 
in  the  field. 

In  their  school  life  Miss  Salmons  has  their  con 
fidence  equally  with  their  pastor.  The  growing 
generation  is  bright  and  learns  things  just  as  quickly 
as  white  children  of  the  same  age. 

The  older  Indians  never  seem  to  be  able  to 
count.  Their  difficulty  in  understanding  figures 
is  shown  when  they  make  purchases  at  the  re 
servation  store.  An  old  Indian  will  buy  a  pound 

76 


of  sugar,  for  instance,  and  lay  down  a  dollar.  After 
he  is  given  his  change  he  may  buy  a  pound  of 
bacon  and  again  wait  for  his  change  before  he 
makes  the  next  purchase.  He  simply  cannot 
understand  that  100  minus  5  minus  18  leaves  77. 

But  the  younger  generation  will  have  no  such 
trouble.  They  are  fairly  quick  at  figures,  and  a 
class  in  mental  arithmetic  under  Miss  Salmons' 
direction  would  not  appear  poorly  in  competition 
with  any  white  class  in  any  other  California 
school. 

The  women  spend  much  time  in  their  gardens 
and  in  basket-  and  lace-making.  Their  houses, 
gates,  and  fences  are  covered  with  a  wealth  of 
roses  and  other  flowers  and  vines  and  their  little 
gardens  are  laid  out  and  cultivated  with  great 
skill.  The  men  have  a  club-house,  in  which  is  a 
billiard-table,  where  they  play  pool  and  other 
games.  There  is  also  a  piano,  and  several  of  the 
Indians  are  able  to  play  creditably  at  their  com 
munity  dances. 

The  games  most  popular  among  the  Palas,  in 
fact  among  all  the  Mission  Indians,  are  Gome, 
Pelota,  Peon  and  Monte.  Gome  is  a  test  of  speed, 
endurance,  and  accuracy.  As  many  contestants 
as  wish  enter,  each  barefooted  and  holding  a  small 
wooden  ball.  A  course  from  one  to  five  miles  is 
designated.  When  the  signal  is  given  each  player 
places  his  ball  upon  the  toes  of  his  right  foot  and 
casts  it.  The  ball  must  not  be  touched  by  the 
hand  again  but  scooped  up  by  the  toes  and  cast 
forward.  The  runner  whose  ball  first  passes  the 
line  at  the  end  of  the  course  is  the  winner.  The 
good  gome  player  is  expert  at  scooping  the  ball 
whilst  running  at  full  speed  and  casting  the  same 

77 


without  losing  his  stride.  Casts  of  40  to  50  yards 
are  not  unusual. 

Pelota  is  a  mixture  of  old  time  shinny  or  hocky, 
la-crosse  and  foot-ball.  It  is  played  by  two  teams 
generally  twelve  on  a  side,  on  a  field  about  twice 
the  size  of  the  regulation  football  gridiron,  with 
two  goal  posts  at  each  end.  Each  player  is  armed 
with  an  oak  stick  about  three  feet  in  length.  The 
teams,  facing  each  other,  stand  in  mid-field.  The 
referee  holds  a  wooden  ball  two  inches  in  diameter 
which  he  places  in  a  hole  in  the  ground  between 
the  players.  He  then  fills  the  hole  with  sand, 
signals,  by  a  call,  and  immediately  the  sticks  of 
of  the  players  dig  the  ball  from  the  sand  and  en 
deavor  to  force  it  towards  and  through  their  op 
ponents'  goal.  There  are  no  regulations  as  to 
interference.  Any  player  may  hold,  throw  or 
block  his  opponent.  He  may  snap  his  opponent's 
stick  from  him  and  hurl  it  yards  away.  He  may 
hide  the  ball  momentarily,  to  pass  it  to  one  of 
his  team-mates,  always  striving  for  a  clean  smash 
at  the  ball.  He  may  not  run  with  the  ball  but  is 
allowed  three  steps  in  any  direction  for  batting 
clearance — if  he  can  get  it.  When  one  team  suc 
ceeds  in  placing  the  ball  between  its  opponents' 
goal-posts  one  point  is  scored.  The  first  team  to 
score  two  points  wins  the  contest. 

Peon,  without  doubt,  is  the  favorite  diversion 
of  the  Southern  California  Indian.  It  is  played 
at  night.  A  small  fire  is  lighted  and  four  players 
squat  on  one  side  of  it  and  four  on  the  other. 
The  players  of  one  set  hold  in  their  hand  two 
sticks  or  bones,  one  black,  the  other  white,  con 
nected  by  a  thong  about  fourteen  inches  long. 
Two  blankets,  dirty  or  clean,  it  matters  little,  are 

78 


On  the  Morning  of  the  Fiesta  at  Pala. 


The  Women  in  the  Ramada  at  the  Pala  Fiesta. 


spread,  one  in  front  of  each  set.  Back  of  the 
players  are  grouped  the  Indian  women,  and  when 
the  players  holding  the  peon  sticks  bend  forward 
to  grasp  the  blanket  between  their  teeth  the  women 
begin  a  chant  or  song.  The  players,  with  hands 
hidden  beneath  the  blanket,  suddenly  rise  to  their 
knees  drop  the  blanket  from  their  teeth  and  are 
seen  to  have  their  arms  folded  so  closely  that  it  is 
impossible  to  tell  which  hand  holds  the  black 
stick  and  which  the  white  one.  Their  bodies  move 
from  side  to  side,  or  up  and  down,  keeping  perfect 
time  with  the  song,  whilst  one  of  the  opponents 
tries  to  tell,  by  false  motions  or  by  watching  the 
eyes  across  the  fire,  which  hands  hold  the  white 
stick.  By  a  movement  of  the  hand  he  calls  his 
guess  and  silence  follows  the  opening  of  the  hand 
which  reveals  whether  he  has  been  successful  in 
his  guess.  The  players  who  have  been  guessed 
throw  their  peon  sticks  across  to  their  opponents. 
For  the  ones  not  guessed  a  chip  or  short  stick  is 
laid  in  front  of  the  player.  The  opponent  must 
continue  until  he  guesses  all  the  hands,  when  his 
side  goes  through  the  same  performance.  There 
are  fourteen  chips  and  one  set  or  side  must  be  in 
possession  of  all  of  them  before  the  game  is  con 
cluded;  so  it  may  be  seen  that  it  can  last  many 
hours.  Sometimes  the  early  morning  finds  the 
singers  and  players  weary  but  undaunted,  as 
the  game  is  unfinished,  and  each  side  is  reluctant 
to  give  up  without  scoring. 

As  poker  is  called  the  American's  gambling 
game  so  peon  might  be  named  the  Indian's  gambl 
ing  game.  Large  sums  are  said  to  have  been 
wagered  on  this  game  prior  to  February  of  1915, 
when  the  Commissioner  of  Indian  Affairs  placed 

79 


the  ban  upon  gambling  of  any  description  on  the 
reservations.  The  game  is  now  played  only  for  a 
prize  or  small  purse  which  is  offered  by  the  Fiesta 
Committee. 

Monte  is  a  card  game  played  by  the  older  people 
and  is  much  like  faro  excepting  that  Mexican  cards 
are  used. 

Taking  their  lives  all  in  all  they  are  today  very 
much  like  those  of  their  white  neighbors.  The 
warriors  of  the  passing  generation  and  their 
squaws  have  thrown  aside  buckskin  for  gingham 
and  shawls  of  cotton  and  wool.  The  thick-soled 
shoe  has  taken  the  place  of  the  sandal  or  soft 
moccassin,  but  the  springy  tread  of  the  foot  is  the 
same  as  it  was  when  it  traversed  a  pathless  wild 
erness.  The  stoicism  and  the  majestic  mein, 
the  indifference  to  results,  and  the  absolute  fearless 
ness  which  are  expressed  in  every  movement,  are 
still  essential  influences  in  the  life  and  government 
of  the  little  band. 

The  younger  men  and  women,  while  they 
tolerate  with  filial  respect  the  superstitions  of 
their  fathers,  are  eager  to  adjust  themselves  to  the 
ways  and  to  be  taught  the  arts  and  wisdom  of 
their  pale-faced  conquerors. 


80 


CHAPTER  XV. 

The  Collapse  and  Rebuilding  of  the  Campanile. 


In  January  of  1916  a  storm  swept  over  the  whole 
of  the  Coast  Country  of  California  from  north  to 
south,  doing  considerable  damage  on  every  hand. 
In  the  Pala  Valley  the  rain  fell  in  volumes.  For 
twenty-four  hours  it  never  ceased,  it  being  estimat 
ed  that  twelve  inches  fell  during  that  time.  The 
pouring  floods  swept  over  the  valley,  and  soon 
began  to  undermine  the  adobe  foundations  of  the 
tower.  The  base  was  simply  a  piled-up  mass  of 
adobe,  covered  with  cobble-stones,  which,  how 
ever,  had  withstood  the  storms  and  the  earth 
quakes  of  a  hundred  years.  As  soon  as  a  few  of 
these  cobble-stones  were  removed  by  the  flood, 
the  clay  beneath  began  to  wash  away  with  startling 
rapidity.  Nothing,  however,  could  be  done  to 
prevent  the  rushing  torrent  that  eagerly  ate  away 
the  ever-softening  clay,  and  at  three  o'clock  in 
the  afternoon  of  January  27th,  those  who  watched 
with  bated  breath,  anxious  hearts,  and  prayerful 
longings,  were  saddened  by  seeing  the  more  solid 
part  of  the  base  drop  apart,  thus  removing  all 
support  to  the  tower.  The  next  moment  it 
toppled  forward  and  fell  with  a  splash  into  the 
muddy  water  surging  at  its  feet.  As  it  fell  it 
broke  into  several  pieces,  but,  fortunately,  the 
bells  sank  into  soft  mud,  and  were  afterwards 
found  uninjured,  to  the  delight  of  pastor,  Indians, 
and  all  the  inhabitants  of  the  country  around  about. 

What  now  should  be  done?  Had  the  Indians 
been  alone  there  is  little  doubt  but  that  their  love 
for  the  interesting  and  historic  tower  would  have 

81 


led  them,  unaided  and  alone,  to  reconstruct  it. 
But  in  their  pastor,  the  Rev.  George  D.  Doyle, 
they  had  one  upon  whom  they  have  long  learned 
to  rely  as  a  real  leader,  in  all  things  pertaining  to 
their  welfare.  Father  Doyle  at  once  put  himself 
in  communication  with  friends  throughout  the 
country.  In  San  Diego  he  appealed  to  Mr.  George 
W.  Marston  and  Mr.  Thomas  Getz,  the  former 
one  of  the  most  public  spirited  benefactors  of 
that  city,  the  latter  being  well  known  for  his 
interest  in  the  Missions,  from  his  exhibit  at  the 
Panama-California  Exposition  and  his  lectures  on 
the  same  subject  at  "Ramona's  Marriage-Place," 
at  Old  San  Diego.  These  gentlemen  immediately 
undertook  to  raise  at  least  one-fifth  of  the  amount 
estimated  for  the  Campanile's  repair.  Other 
friends  responded  nobly,  and  the  work  of  rebuilding 
was  immediately  begun. 

It  was  the  substantial  gift,  however,  of  Mrs. 
George  I.  Kyte,  of  Santa  Monica,  Calif.,  that  made 
it  possible  to  complete  the  work  in  so  short  a  time. 

A  solid  and  substantial  concrete  base  twelve 
feet  long,  twelve  feet  deep,  and  five  feet  wide,  was 
first  erected,  so  that  no  storm  of  the  future  could 
undermine  it.  Then  carefully  following  the  plan 
of  the  old  tower,  using  the  old  material  as  far  as 
possible,  and  not  neglecting  a  single  detail,  the 
new  tower  slowly  arose  to  its  completion.  The 
old  cross-timbers  for  the  bells,  were  again  given 
their  sweet  burden,  the  original  cactus  saved  from 
the  ruins  was  planted  again  at  the  foot  of  the  cross, 
the  cobble-stones  of  the  base,  also,  were  put  back 
into  place  and  neatly  white-washed.  Hence,  except 
that  it  looks  so  new,  Padre  Peyri  himself  would 
not  know  it  from  the  tower  of  his  own  erection. 

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